29 October 2009
27 October 2009
In The Quiet of The Night
October is nearing it's end. In some respects, the month has gone by quite fast. Though, at times, it seems as if October might never end.
Today, I determined that I really needed to get outside, with the hope that the riding mower would not fail me. I *just* mowed and bagged a plethora of lawn bags, heavy and laden with compacted leaves. The lawn was again carpeted and so I began to get the tractor out and with the objective of filling (at least) ten to fifteen bags. The beautiful, sunny days are waning, desperately holding on for another breath. As I mowed, I waved to the neighbors, pleased that I was wearing my sandals, soon to be forced into hibernation. When I got to the the back forty, I began to lament Malachy's absence. I really enjoyed watching him run around the yard with abandon. He would watch me as I mowed and I would check at which point he was in his roaming of the yard. He bounded about, untethered, and free to run and explore with abandon. I would call him and he would wag his tail and smile, walking toward me as I made another loop. I realized today how much I enjoyed watching him play in the yard while I was mowing, gardening, or hanging out with the kiddos. Okay, maybe I was a bit distracted and thus, this in the reason why I mowed over the large tree trunk in the front yard after a loop in the back. (I think we need a new blade as the mower began to sputter, eventually making the most unpleasant grinding sound). Nevertheless, this mundane fall task again reminded me of the *readjusted normalcy.* I delighted in Mal's company while I worked outside. I delighted even more in watching him be so happy.
So, I finished mowing. Well, the mower *finished*before I had completed the leaf pick-up. I came inside and cleaned up so Eamon and Emma and I could go out for our walk. I noticed the mail had come so went to retrieve it before we went to the trail. I opened up the autopsy/necropsy report from the U of M. There were medical terms that I did not understand, of course. But, I understood *enough* to understand that the cancer had riddled his body. His heart appeared to be the primary source of the tumor. I knew that the cancer had metastasized, but reading the report hit this fact home. I was amazed that this uncontrolled force was almost everywhere within him. I was also amazed that he did so remarkably well, given the seriousness of his illness. I wonder if he felt sick, tired, uncomfortable, or sad as he was not a complainer. Dr. F said he probably did not realize he had cancer until the last day of his life. I sincerely hope she is right. I hold onto her words.
I have looked back at my October posts, realizing that they have not changed in tone from October's beginning to end. I feel like I am working through this grief but become self critical that I am not working through the loss of Malachy as I *should.* Am I mourning his loss for too long a period? Am I perseverating on his absence? Would my grief flow as it has if I were in school, employed, or depression-free? Maybe so. Or, maybe I am working at it as I should. In my own way, as I know how, with all things considered.
The irony is that Malachy brought me much relief from the sometimes all-encompassing despair of depression. He mitigated it's severity. He lessened the anxiety. I now grieve his companionship but also long for his ability to unknowingly comfort.
I find the nights to be the most difficult. The house is quiet and all have gone to bed. Madeline is asleep in the corner for the evening. The nights allowed me to give Malachy undivided attention. I still enjoy my sweet Madeline's snuggling with all of my heart. I am grateful to have my time with her and give her undivided love. Yet, the nights are quieter. Too quiet. Too unsettling.
I have confidence that I will again write posts about all of the joy and silliness the day brings. I know that my life is filled with blessings and good fortune. (KNOCK ON WOOD). I have not lost sight of the wonder. Though, for now, I contemplate the business of grieving.
Today, I determined that I really needed to get outside, with the hope that the riding mower would not fail me. I *just* mowed and bagged a plethora of lawn bags, heavy and laden with compacted leaves. The lawn was again carpeted and so I began to get the tractor out and with the objective of filling (at least) ten to fifteen bags. The beautiful, sunny days are waning, desperately holding on for another breath. As I mowed, I waved to the neighbors, pleased that I was wearing my sandals, soon to be forced into hibernation. When I got to the the back forty, I began to lament Malachy's absence. I really enjoyed watching him run around the yard with abandon. He would watch me as I mowed and I would check at which point he was in his roaming of the yard. He bounded about, untethered, and free to run and explore with abandon. I would call him and he would wag his tail and smile, walking toward me as I made another loop. I realized today how much I enjoyed watching him play in the yard while I was mowing, gardening, or hanging out with the kiddos. Okay, maybe I was a bit distracted and thus, this in the reason why I mowed over the large tree trunk in the front yard after a loop in the back. (I think we need a new blade as the mower began to sputter, eventually making the most unpleasant grinding sound). Nevertheless, this mundane fall task again reminded me of the *readjusted normalcy.* I delighted in Mal's company while I worked outside. I delighted even more in watching him be so happy.
So, I finished mowing. Well, the mower *finished*before I had completed the leaf pick-up. I came inside and cleaned up so Eamon and Emma and I could go out for our walk. I noticed the mail had come so went to retrieve it before we went to the trail. I opened up the autopsy/necropsy report from the U of M. There were medical terms that I did not understand, of course. But, I understood *enough* to understand that the cancer had riddled his body. His heart appeared to be the primary source of the tumor. I knew that the cancer had metastasized, but reading the report hit this fact home. I was amazed that this uncontrolled force was almost everywhere within him. I was also amazed that he did so remarkably well, given the seriousness of his illness. I wonder if he felt sick, tired, uncomfortable, or sad as he was not a complainer. Dr. F said he probably did not realize he had cancer until the last day of his life. I sincerely hope she is right. I hold onto her words.
I have looked back at my October posts, realizing that they have not changed in tone from October's beginning to end. I feel like I am working through this grief but become self critical that I am not working through the loss of Malachy as I *should.* Am I mourning his loss for too long a period? Am I perseverating on his absence? Would my grief flow as it has if I were in school, employed, or depression-free? Maybe so. Or, maybe I am working at it as I should. In my own way, as I know how, with all things considered.
The irony is that Malachy brought me much relief from the sometimes all-encompassing despair of depression. He mitigated it's severity. He lessened the anxiety. I now grieve his companionship but also long for his ability to unknowingly comfort.
I find the nights to be the most difficult. The house is quiet and all have gone to bed. Madeline is asleep in the corner for the evening. The nights allowed me to give Malachy undivided attention. I still enjoy my sweet Madeline's snuggling with all of my heart. I am grateful to have my time with her and give her undivided love. Yet, the nights are quieter. Too quiet. Too unsettling.
I have confidence that I will again write posts about all of the joy and silliness the day brings. I know that my life is filled with blessings and good fortune. (KNOCK ON WOOD). I have not lost sight of the wonder. Though, for now, I contemplate the business of grieving.
25 October 2009
The Autumn
The Autumn by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them --
The summer flowers depart --
Sit still -- as all transform'd to stone,
Except your musing heart.
How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.
Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!
The dearest hands that clasp our hands, --
Their presence may be o'er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh'd our mind,
Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.
Hear not the wind -- view not the woods;
Look out o'er vale and hill-
In spring, the sky encircled them --
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn's scathe -- come winter's cold --
Come change -- and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne'er be desolate.
Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them --
The summer flowers depart --
Sit still -- as all transform'd to stone,
Except your musing heart.
How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.
Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!
The dearest hands that clasp our hands, --
Their presence may be o'er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh'd our mind,
Shall come -- as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.
Hear not the wind -- view not the woods;
Look out o'er vale and hill-
In spring, the sky encircled them --
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn's scathe -- come winter's cold --
Come change -- and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne'er be desolate.
Time Does Not Bring Relief
Time does not bring relief
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go - so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.
Edna St Vincent Millay (1892 -1950)
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go - so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.
Edna St Vincent Millay (1892 -1950)
The Business of Grieving...Continues
At times, I still cry for you, Malachy. It has been nearly three weeks since you have passed. I continuing to grieve for you. At some point, these posts will not detail how much I miss you or how much I cried for you. Though now, I feel the need to write all of my thoughts, feelings, and fears.
Since you died, I have not slept well...at all. I feel out of sorts right now, a sense of discomfort, that has only worsened. I realize that my depression exacerbates these feelings.
Perhaps tonight will promise a restful slumber. Or, so I hope. Wish me luck. There are times I cry as my head falls upon the pillow. No longer the sobbing, but instead, the large, warm, slow tears that fall upon my cheek.
I find a comfort in my gratitude in all that you were. Your absence is a painful reminder of how much things have changed. I struggle, as my instinct is to fight this *change* with all of my being, But, I know that I must surrender.
I continue to grieve, but with a keen eye to all of the surrounding beauty. I must not lose sight of the blessings, despite my sadness.
I miss you my sweet Shortround.
Since you died, I have not slept well...at all. I feel out of sorts right now, a sense of discomfort, that has only worsened. I realize that my depression exacerbates these feelings.
Perhaps tonight will promise a restful slumber. Or, so I hope. Wish me luck. There are times I cry as my head falls upon the pillow. No longer the sobbing, but instead, the large, warm, slow tears that fall upon my cheek.
I find a comfort in my gratitude in all that you were. Your absence is a painful reminder of how much things have changed. I struggle, as my instinct is to fight this *change* with all of my being, But, I know that I must surrender.
I continue to grieve, but with a keen eye to all of the surrounding beauty. I must not lose sight of the blessings, despite my sadness.
I miss you my sweet Shortround.
Madeline Misses Her Brother
Madeline seems a bit down over the past week. Upon Malachy's passing, I was surprised that Madeline's behavior and demeanor did not appear to change at all, given the circumstances. During a conversation with Dr. Ken, I inquired as to the grieving process with dogs. He mentioned that dogs generally eat less or not at all and become more depressed and less energetic for a week or so. He seemed surprised that Madeline was not exhibiting any manifestations of grief or loss.
I wonder if Madeline does indeed miss her brother. They spent almost every moment of the last seven years together.
I do know that I need to continue giving her extra attention, extra hugs, extra kisses, and extra treats for a while. Extra love during this adjustment period might be just what the doctor ordered for everyone.
I feel very grateful that our family continues to have our sweet Madeline with us. She has had chronic uvetis in both eyes, which, in turn, resulted in Glaucoma in both eyes, which, in turn, caused her complete blindness. Madeline also had a bout with a neural sheath tumor in the area where her right eye once was. We remain hopeful that Dr. O removed the entire tumor as there is a risk that it may grow once more requiring additional surgery.
Madeline holds has always held her own. She does not shy away from a challenge. She has not allowed blindness to slow her down, certainly not much to be sure. She has not allowed the cancer to slow her down. She is strong. She is tough. And, we love her.
I pray that we will have many more happy years with our sweet girl. :) We love her with all of our hearts.
I wonder if Madeline does indeed miss her brother. They spent almost every moment of the last seven years together.
I do know that I need to continue giving her extra attention, extra hugs, extra kisses, and extra treats for a while. Extra love during this adjustment period might be just what the doctor ordered for everyone.
I feel very grateful that our family continues to have our sweet Madeline with us. She has had chronic uvetis in both eyes, which, in turn, resulted in Glaucoma in both eyes, which, in turn, caused her complete blindness. Madeline also had a bout with a neural sheath tumor in the area where her right eye once was. We remain hopeful that Dr. O removed the entire tumor as there is a risk that it may grow once more requiring additional surgery.
Madeline holds has always held her own. She does not shy away from a challenge. She has not allowed blindness to slow her down, certainly not much to be sure. She has not allowed the cancer to slow her down. She is strong. She is tough. And, we love her.
I pray that we will have many more happy years with our sweet girl. :) We love her with all of our hearts.
24 October 2009
Sleepless Nights
I still miss my sweet Malachy. Since he died, I have been having difficulty sleeping. I still feel out of sorts. I have accepted that he has left us. I am trying to set forth our new normalcy that no longer includes him. So many reminders of him all around.
I found myself sobbing in the bathtub this morning, while the kids were in school. I did not intend to cry, after all. Yet, I thought about how much I missed him. So many tears flowed down my face as I lie in the hot water. So many tears. So many tears.
This sadness was exacerbated by other variables. Malachy is the primary focus of my current grief. However, his passing opens some very painful wounds that have never really healed. Wounds that remain, despite my great desire that they heal.
When I am ready, I will talk about how Malachy's death stirs up the losses in my life. It stirs up so much pain. It stirs up that sense of missing and longing. It reminds me that those I so truly loved, with all of my heart, are gone. Gone forever. Yet, life must tread on. I want it to be a happy life. I need it to be a happy life. I am becoming more and more worn out from the sadness.
The business of grieving continues. I resolve to work through this as long as it takes. This is my only chance to truly heal. Not forget, nor feel the pain any less. I cannot continue my journey until I learn to truly heal from this pain.
I found myself sobbing in the bathtub this morning, while the kids were in school. I did not intend to cry, after all. Yet, I thought about how much I missed him. So many tears flowed down my face as I lie in the hot water. So many tears. So many tears.
This sadness was exacerbated by other variables. Malachy is the primary focus of my current grief. However, his passing opens some very painful wounds that have never really healed. Wounds that remain, despite my great desire that they heal.
When I am ready, I will talk about how Malachy's death stirs up the losses in my life. It stirs up so much pain. It stirs up that sense of missing and longing. It reminds me that those I so truly loved, with all of my heart, are gone. Gone forever. Yet, life must tread on. I want it to be a happy life. I need it to be a happy life. I am becoming more and more worn out from the sadness.
The business of grieving continues. I resolve to work through this as long as it takes. This is my only chance to truly heal. Not forget, nor feel the pain any less. I cannot continue my journey until I learn to truly heal from this pain.
23 October 2009
The Process
Some days the missing is more intense. Today is one of those days.
The nights are the hardest. Too much time to think.
The nights are the hardest. Too much time to think.
22 October 2009
Daisy
Dad, thank you for saving the oh so cool, Daisy. You gave her the opportunity for a long and wonderful life. Your quick thinking and skill allowed us all many more happy memories with Mama Dog. :)
http://news.google.com/newspapers?id=emEPAAAAIBAJ&sjid=2oYDAAAAIBAJ&pg=4072,3723871&hl=en
http://news.google.com/newspapers?id=emEPAAAAIBAJ&sjid=2oYDAAAAIBAJ&pg=4072,3723871&hl=en
21 October 2009
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