Grief Be Not Still

Shakespeare said:
"Give sorrow words, the grief
that does not speak whispers the
o'erfraught heart, and bids it break."

Amen.  I can relate. Writing helps soothe my soul and comfort my constant thoughts about Suzy.  After all, memories are friends and, when I think of all the great times we shared, I cannot help but smile.  She brought more light to my world than a thousand sunbeams in a million prisms.

I recently finished reading a wonderful book about loss and grief.  It's called, In Lieu of Flowers, A Conversation for the Living. In her introduction author, Nancy Cobb, writes about the nature of grief and how it has a life of its own when she says:

"After experiencing the death of someone you love, you jon a rank-and-file whose number multiplies hourly.  Soon you learn, as others have before you, that perspective shifts erratically.  Weeks pass slowly.  You wonder why the world goes on as if nothing has happened.  You wonder if that bone-deep physical ache in the center of your chest will ever go away, or if you'll ever finish a paragraph, laugh with abandon, or look at family photographs without falling apart." (P. xv)

I daresay it's the same for a beloved pet.  The author goes on to say it's not easy no matter if the death was sudden of if you've, ". . .had plenty of time to say goodbye, you'll still wonder if you've got it right.  Regret is grief's handmaiden.  Learning to focus on the life, rather than the death requires an enormous emotional effort. You distract easily. You teeter constantly.  Car accidents and falls down stairs often occur during periods of mourning.  Because you have been cracked open by your experience, imbalance is often a result."  (P. xvi)

I know, for me, it's been that way for the better part of the year.  First, with seeing Suzy wither then be unable to walk, stand, eat or drink and, then, finally die.  It was grueling and gut-wrenching.  I've made some bad decisions this year, real doozies, that have affected my future and livelihood.  Knocked the rear-view mirror off my car, pulled up some pretty plants in my yard I mistook for weeds, flaired up at a friend, felt raw, irritable, scared, shocked and overwhelmed for the past six weeks of Suzy's life as I watched her tumble and fall, stagger and succumb to the grim reaper at the end.  Part of my end, too.

And so it is that I write.  For my heart overflows with sadness, my brain with weariness, my being with  grief.  Only words will guide me toward the light.  Only sharing my story will bring me back to life.