Passages and Self Care

We’re at the end of April and May is just around the corner. I’m still greeted by the white of the snow when I open my bedroom blinds upon waking. The morning temperature is still in the minus. I’m still starting my mornings reading the two Heathers. I feel it is important to know what’s going on south of our border and the world. It is important for me to know what we as human beings are capable of. It is distressing, frightening and very bad for my mental health. Ignoring it, hiding my head in the sand will not make it go away. It is almost unbelievable what is happening. It is so awful that in a way it is entertaining. I wonder if Donald Trump is laughing away at what he is able to do and getting away with it.

Perhaps I should stop ranting and start taking care of myself. It’s been a difficult journey with the passing of my mother and the caring of my father. Not that my father needs alot of hands on care. At 94 he is still independent with his own physical care of dressing and bathing. He can still look his own meals. My brother does the yard work in summer and shovels the snow in winter. My sister does the vacuuming and laundry. We all do the trips to bloodwork, doctors and ER visits. I’ve been overseeing his social and emotional wellbeing. So I’ve been taking him out for coffee every afternoon for a year. What can I do when he is alone 24/7 for the first time in his life?

Now I’m cutting back to coffee 3 times a week. He has gotten over the acute phase of loss and grief. I need the time to unwind, for I, too have had suffered loss and grief. In the past year and a half I have not lost just my mother but part of my hearing. I have lost time struggling with griefing, caring and restoring my health. I guess every one of us have gone through these stages in our lives. And yesterday I recognized these passages attending an art exhibit with passages as a theme. I was overcome with emotions as the art evoke the memories of passages passing. I felt the loss of no arting for the past year.

LOVING SHEBA

Good morning. How have you been? It’s 3 weeks since I’ve lost my Sheba. It’s such a short and yet long time ago. I’ve had her since she was 2 months old, almost 14 years. But it’s never long enough. She was 3 months short of her 14th birthday. I think of her, missing her presence in all my waking moments. How could I not?

It’s been difficult to come here, my space of refuge, of sighing and letting go. I’m still in the grasping stage. I now know what is meant by grasping at straws. I’m grasping and clutching but there is no physical Sheba. I feel breathless at times. I hear the click of her nails on the floor. I feel her presence –  on her pillow at the foot of the bed, in the kitchen crunching her breakfast and making coffee with the guy in the morning, waiting for me as I come out of the bathroom. I’m ready to step over her but she’s not there. And so it goes.

The acuteness and sorrow of loss will mellow with time. For now I will just let them rise and fall. I will let the tears gather at the corners of my eyes, feel that lump in my throat and the ache in my heart. It is the nature of grieving. I had not been able to or allow myself the luxury of mourning my losses in the past. I had believed in keeping a stiff upper lip and keeping a tight lid on feelings. But Sheba has broke through that dam.

She was everything to me. She was always there and still is for me – my buffer against the blues and other ills. It’s high time I give credit for her work and role in my life. She has given much love and joy and many stories to be told.