It’s almost a week since our dear little doggies died. What a week. Whilst our eyes are no longer puffy with tears, the disbelief seems stronger than ever. Some moments are still so raw, I cannot tell if the shadow of panic and anxiety is creeping up on me, if my breath is shortening, or if this is simply grief. And there are Abby and Julian beside me, also struggling with sadness, needing my love and attention, sharing their love and attention.
I try to hold on to the soothing words of Ruth Moody …
“When our hearts they speak so loudly, we can only listen. We can only listen.”
And instead of sinking into the sad details of Simon and Toph’s last hours, we try to focus on what lays before us, whilst remembering and sharing the delight that was our time with our dear doggies. All the beautiful and thoughtful words left here have truly helped, thankyou. Family and friends have called everyday to share their love, tears and stories, thankyou. Colleagues at work have been so kind and accomodating, thankyou. Rachel, Hugh and the nurses have sent their love, thank you. And life has to go on.
There are the usual chores and rituals, albeit carried out with an unfamiliar quietness.
There have been days at home alone, long and needing to have their stillness filled.
Whilst lunching with Julian in town, I found these soft colours of the coming season at the wool store and brought it home to knit up this spring shawl.
The doggies’ blankets have been washed and lay folded and soft on their beds.
Each day, signs appear that after a long grey winter, the earth is once again beginning to warm.
And yet Simon and Toph are not here to see it. To bathe in the sun. To fossick through the garden. To patiently follow us round and round the house. How can this be so?
It just is. It just is. And we can only listen.