Messages of Love

We’ve been back from our trip for almost four days, but it feels like only one. I’ve lost track of time. Could it be jet lag? Perhaps. My inner clock is definitely off. I got up at a decent hour, but I was exhausted by lunchtime. In an effort to gain a little momentum, I did some work in the garden. I had planned to go for a bicycle ride afterwards, but I ended up taking a nap instead. After I awoke three hours later, I forced myself to get up and take a shower. The day seemed like a waste.

I feel like I am marking time until I’m “better.” Somewhere inside my consciousness I can envision what “better” might be like. I just don’t know how long it will be before I get there. I felt a little stronger emotionally today, but physically I am wiped out. I move slowly and get winded easier than usual. Walking up a flight of stairs takes a lot of effort. I don’t really care about eating anything. I do it because I know I need to.

There are two scenarios I am currently weighing in my mind: staying or moving away. If I decide to stay, I will have to face the awful memories head on in an effort to desensitize myself, and regularly feel uncomfortable as I deal with them. If I decide to move away, I won’t have the horrible images to grapple with on a regular basis, but this neighborhood may always trigger awful memories, thoughts, and feelings. Even worse, my healing may be incomplete. Staying put might be tougher in the beginning, but in the long run, it could be better for me.

Knowing that I have an exit plan is critical. I have a place I can go to if I need immediate relief, and I have a plan to move away if I learn that I simply can’t cope. Still, I feel so fragile and vulnerable. This is foreign territory for me. I’ve never lost anyone this close to me. Life goes on, whether I like it or not, whether I feel good or bad, or whether I feel strong or weak. Life happens. Death happens. All those moments in between happen.

When I woke up early this morning, I was acutely aware how fragile our lives are. Every living thing on our planet exists on a temporary basis. Each moment is a gift because it can all go away in an instant. My thinking was affirmed when I was watching the news shortly after I got out of bed. I saw a story about a doctor who was in a plane that was going down, and knowing that his life was ending, he wrote a note, tucking it inside his medical bag. The message was found after the plane crashed. It was basically a goodbye message of love.

My last moments with Hardy were similar. Yet they are filled with regret. I will always wonder what it would have been like to stroke his little forehead, and comfort him as he left this world. I was kept separate from him during his last moments. Those moments were stolen from me. It’s haunting because fear was NOT what I was feeling as I was convinced to move slowly away from my pet. Fear of the dog turning on me, was the last thing on my mind. At the same time, I have to admit that if I had stayed to comfort Hardy, I’d likely be dead too. So it was from inside the safety of the closest house, behind a closed door, I had to scream my goodbye and my final message of love.