“Dogs are the closest we come to knowing the divine
love of God on this side of eternity. They love you all the time, no matter
what.”
– Anne
Lamott
The past
few months have been a difficult season for me and Steve, and the last month in
particular has been really challenging. The days seemed to have been
filled with loss and illness; in particular the deaths of two people beloved to
me, my grandfather and a dear friend.
In
addition to those deaths, a series of other events has occurred; some as
inane as the fire sprinkler in our closet starting to leak on our clothes and
having to be replaced involving moving ALL. THE. THINGS. out of the closet for
sprinkler and drywall repair, and others as important as job searching.
Grief and loss makes everything harder. Especially brushing your
teeth, apparently. Sorry if that's too much information, but I
never forget to do this in "normal mode" but in "grief
mode" I have now forgotten at least three times... yuck.
Another
totally normal thing I have not enjoyed since all this has started happening is
walking the dogs. Not because I don't love the dogs. I would pretty
much rather spend all day with Steve and the dogs right now. Nope, that's
not it. The reason I don't want to walk them is because when I am
grieving I have discovered I dislike making small talk, and we live in this
lovely friendly place where when you go outside, there are PEOPLE EVERYWHERE
(normally; awesome). The people want to talk to you, and check on you,
and see if they can help you. God BLESS them. Seriously. We
have some absolutely gob-stopping wonderful neighbors who we love a lot.
It's me, not them.
A side
effect of grief for me is an odd, "social anxiety, not wanting to leave the apartment, but I will if I have to" sort of thing.
This is where the dogs come in, because while I will occasionally forget
to brush my teeth, the dogs do still need to go to the bathroom outside
the apartment. So at least four times a day, I also have to go outside
the apartment with them.
Guess what? 3 times out of 4, we don't see anyone to speak to. That's O.K. Fresh air, sunshine, and physical activity are just as good (if not better) than getting a smiling face from a neighbor. The gift Teddi and McTavish give me is breaking the barrier of the front door more times a day than not, and bringing me out into God's creation as a reminder that this season of suffering and loss is not forever.
1 comment:
As you well know, not every gift is pleasant in every moment. Glad Teddi and McTavish are a gift you need.
Your post reminds me of the words of a friend who returned to work after three days off when her mother died. She worked as a reference library and she said that every time someone came up to ask her some silly question her brain screamed to her, "Why are you asking me something so stupid. Don't you know my mom just died?"
Wishing you a path through your grief.
Post a Comment