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.

 

TAKE THE SLOW TRAIN

Good morning! My hair is standing on end. I feel stiff and awkward like a non functioning robot, but I am here. My fingers are poised over the keyboard, ready to tap. The exercise will loosen me up for the day. I’m used to sit in meditation with Mark Williams daily on YouTube. I’ve been doing it since July. It’s become a habit now. My body cries for the familiar posture. It’s a good way to kick start the day and my brain – to warm and fire up its cylinders. And if nothing else, I will have a strong core and good posture.  Let’s see if it worked.

I’m sputtering and stuttering a bit. What did I expect – smooth sailing? I’m still tired from the busyness of yesterday and trudging through the snow. I have never stalled and stopped completely – yet. Somehow I always manage to stoke the fire and keep going. Maybe I can have another cup of decaf. Maybe I can just sit here, enjoy the sunshine and watch the traffic on Preston Avenue. Would that be such a terrible thing – not doing or trying to get anywhere?

The sun disappeared while I was making my cuppa and unloading the dishwasher. Light and life are so fleeting. Here one minute, then it’s gone the next. Canada and I’m sure, the world, is still reeling over the the crash of Ukraine International Airlines Flight PS752. All 176 passengers were killed. 68 of them were Canadians, mostly students and young professionals. Such a loss and tragedy and the why of it? Where are we going as a world? And will there be a world for the next generations to come?

I cannotmust not stay in the valley of the shadow. I must rise up above to do the best I can and know how. Perhaps that best is to take the slower train, savour the landscape and moments and have my coffee. Tomorrow is another day.

SIP, STITCH and NO BITCHING

December 9, 2018 4:31 pm

So I sit me down to write with my cuppa strawberry flavoured tea and little blocks of dark, dark chocolate. I’m not sure how correct my tapping will be. I am not feeling totally correct. Don’t hold me to my words. Tomorrow I might disown them. I am not coming from the dark of the night place but ’tis the season’. All this jolly, jolly Christmas stuff sometimes upends me. All the expectations and preparations. All the hopes and dreams. And all the fairy tales.

 

I was not born into all that. I immigrated into the culture. I adopted the customs though I was never quite at home with them all. In a sense I have never been quite at home in my life. I was always looking out into others’ homes and Christmas trees, envious of all the glitter and laughter. After a long while, I did feel comfortable with it all – Christmases and Easters. I had made them into my own seasons of worship and gratitude. Christmas was my holy time. Easter was my season in the desert.

Now, they are both gone. I feel no reverence or holy. But I do feel a loss. I feel sad for it. I will try to slowly migrate back towards the feelings that once had meaning.  It is not easy in these times. There is too much nit picking and political correctness about everything nowadays. The song Baby, It’s Cold Out There is considered inappropriate and banned. Even Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer is thought of as a song about bullying. I will have to shelf everything and think about it later. Tomorrow is another day. I wonder how many are feeling like me.

December 10, 2018  4:48 pm

I’m here with my cuppa and no chocolate. I have not given much thought to anything overnight. I’ve put my brain on a freeze. No analyzing of this or that. It is much better to just sip, stitch, no bitching and be as merry as I can. Life is short. The night is long. The time is for me to pass. I rather use it and my energy in creating something beautiful rather than sour grapes and bitter lemons. It’s the season to be kind to myself and others, focus on my own path and not be distracted by the sidelines. To my own self be true. I will not be like Eve. I will not flee from my Garden of Eden.

SOME KIND OF CHANGE

A change of pace, a change of scene is always good for the soul. It breaks up the routine. It breaks up thoughts. You can’t rely on the same old, same old. You are forced to see something different if not differently.

So here we are in another city, in a hotel. In recent days we’ve experienced the loss of family members. That alone has changed our lives forever. Our days are somehow never going to be the same. The thought makes the losses unbearable and the memories all the more precious.

I see those moments frozen in time. It is as if I could reach out my hand and touch those people. I can almost hear their voices and laughter. So I have not lost them really. I still have had the experience of them in my being. They are still part of who I am.

I am a little sad but I’m also full of their love and my love for them. So really I am happy after all.