How quickly my life changes...
I sold my house in Missouri yesterday. Three weeks. Can't believe my luck! As much as I wanted it to sell fast, I haven't gotten to truly settle in here in Florida yet. Though I suppose I'm not going to be settled without some of my "stuff" around. It has been hard living out of two states -- my neighbor and good friend has been a life saver mailing me things each week.
My emotions are swirling like a tornado, and I'm doing everything in my power to breathe deep and keep the enormity of what I have to do in perspective. I head back to MO to start the moving process Sunday. The daunting part is sorting, pitching and packing the details of the life I've had for so many years. I'm cleaning house -- selling most everything, starting over.
Getting rid of Ken's things -- ouch. I realized a while back that the stack of diplomas and certifications that he worked so hard to achieve get to go....where? a dumpster! Without kids to pass things on to, once we're gone, all our efforts and the things we're so proud of just go away. His favorite clothes, his photos from years of travel and his life before I met him -- who gets them? Some will go to charity, some will get sold, some will go to the landfill. I will, of course, keep OUR photos and memories, but I can't keep it all. So final.
It also makes me wonder why I keep moving, move after move, my school achievements and photos from when I was a kid, my old ballet slippers and boxing shorts, yearbooks...they may follow Ken's things this time!
I sit here tonight with warm, wonderful thunderstorms all around, and ponder the wild ride I have been on for years now. About four months ago, I told my friend, Kellene, "I'd like a BORING year of status quo. Nothing exciting, no surprises, no drama." Well, so much for that! She laughs and thinks that's not possible for me. I wouldn't know what to do -- she's probably right! I never could've dreamed the positive changes that have been bestowed upon me.
Through all of the ups and downs, THE biggest treasure has been the people in my life. The unconditional love I feel from so many -- old friends, new friends, family and now Allan, keeps me grounded and makes me feel blessed beyond reason. I can't quantify it, I can't explain how it moves me, but it is truly all that matters. When we are gone, what lives on? The memories and the love.
As I embark on the next phase of cleaning the slate of that which has become my life, I pray for stability and grace to not just get through it, but to feel it and release it like yoga breath. As I cut the final thread of the past ,I hope to weave it into the fabric of who I have become, continue to grow from my experiences, and embrace each new moment with dignity and gratitude. I am so blessed.
"Opportunities to find deeper powers within ourselves come when life seems most challenging."Joseph Campbell
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Sunday, February 9, 2014
The Hours of Fading Light...
It's been too long since my last post -- I have been meaning to write for days. I've gotten my laptop out, set it on the coffee table and there it stayed, closed. Finally, on this Sunday evening, as the sky turns shades of sherbet and the sun sets on yet another perfect Florida day -- sunny, 70, breezy -- I finally feel moved (and brave enough) to write what I have to say without completely falling apart.
I found out on Tuesday that my baby boy, Barney, has cancer. I have known in my heart for months that he's not felt well, but it was finally confirmed by a medical professional. The poor guy has anal gland cancer and it has spread to a couple of lymph nodes.
I took the news with stoicism while at the vet and then proceeded to descend into despair on the way home. Once the tears started, there was no stopping them. I kept rationalizing with myself that he's twelve years old and I knew he'd only be with me a while longer, just by nature, but I never wanted him to suffer.
For now he is on prednisone, acting like a wild-child puppy, eating like a trash can, and has Allan wrapped around his doggy paw. Barn can get him to do anything he desires by using his mischievous blue-eyed stare and that head-tilt that he's famous for. I haven't seen him act this frisky in years. I am tremendously thankful for the medication since it may give him a few weeks/months of playfulness and joy.
I have vowed not to mourn him until he is gone. It upsets him when I'm upset, so I refuse to cry in his presence and do not ponder what's to come for more than a minute or tears spring to my eyes. I want to enjoy every single minute with him, smiling, laughing, playing, sharing people food (finally -- human food without restriction!!) taking walks, snuggling and smelling his doggy scent.
Those of you that I've shared the news with have all said the same thing -- he's been holding on to make sure I'm okay. Our connection is so powerful, he feels my contentment and knows that I have Allan to watch over me and love me, so he feels it's okay to let go now. We also know what a constant struggle his life has been -- one illness or ailment after another; I'm not sure he's ever been physically comfortable in 12 1/2 years.
I am grateful to Allan who invited us into his home, never flinching at the amount of dog hair and throw rugs that have invaded his space. He's been amazing in the face of this tragedy so early in our new life together. His kindness and love have made this horrible news somewhat bearable.
He went with me to the vet for moral support, and Tuesday evening, when I couldn't pull myself together and stop sobbing, he stayed home from work to hold me, let me cry it out, and then had me laughing by night's end. Once again, facing an epic loss and life-altering event, I have a reason to be thankful and feel blessed. Thank you, Allan!
One can never, ever know the unconditional love and joy a dog can bring to life until you've been loved by one, and given that love in return. It is on a level so different than human love because there is no judgment, no disappointment -- just pure adoration and constant forgiveness. Though it is always too short of a time that they are with us, they touch our hearts and change our lives for the better, forever.
"Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity." Henry Van Dyke
I found out on Tuesday that my baby boy, Barney, has cancer. I have known in my heart for months that he's not felt well, but it was finally confirmed by a medical professional. The poor guy has anal gland cancer and it has spread to a couple of lymph nodes.
I took the news with stoicism while at the vet and then proceeded to descend into despair on the way home. Once the tears started, there was no stopping them. I kept rationalizing with myself that he's twelve years old and I knew he'd only be with me a while longer, just by nature, but I never wanted him to suffer.
For now he is on prednisone, acting like a wild-child puppy, eating like a trash can, and has Allan wrapped around his doggy paw. Barn can get him to do anything he desires by using his mischievous blue-eyed stare and that head-tilt that he's famous for. I haven't seen him act this frisky in years. I am tremendously thankful for the medication since it may give him a few weeks/months of playfulness and joy.
I have vowed not to mourn him until he is gone. It upsets him when I'm upset, so I refuse to cry in his presence and do not ponder what's to come for more than a minute or tears spring to my eyes. I want to enjoy every single minute with him, smiling, laughing, playing, sharing people food (finally -- human food without restriction!!) taking walks, snuggling and smelling his doggy scent.
Those of you that I've shared the news with have all said the same thing -- he's been holding on to make sure I'm okay. Our connection is so powerful, he feels my contentment and knows that I have Allan to watch over me and love me, so he feels it's okay to let go now. We also know what a constant struggle his life has been -- one illness or ailment after another; I'm not sure he's ever been physically comfortable in 12 1/2 years.
I am grateful to Allan who invited us into his home, never flinching at the amount of dog hair and throw rugs that have invaded his space. He's been amazing in the face of this tragedy so early in our new life together. His kindness and love have made this horrible news somewhat bearable.
He went with me to the vet for moral support, and Tuesday evening, when I couldn't pull myself together and stop sobbing, he stayed home from work to hold me, let me cry it out, and then had me laughing by night's end. Once again, facing an epic loss and life-altering event, I have a reason to be thankful and feel blessed. Thank you, Allan!
One can never, ever know the unconditional love and joy a dog can bring to life until you've been loved by one, and given that love in return. It is on a level so different than human love because there is no judgment, no disappointment -- just pure adoration and constant forgiveness. Though it is always too short of a time that they are with us, they touch our hearts and change our lives for the better, forever.
"Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity." Henry Van Dyke
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