We have experienced a lot of loss this year. First our beloved mare, Cherry decided it was time to go – she was over 40 years old – in April. Then our special, trusted, big, black, dog, Bentley left us in May. We deeply miss both of these daily big presences in our lives! Then after Jay returned from a big family celebration honoring his father on his 85th birthday, we received word that he passed just 1 week later. This was in June.
We are in July now, and though we are nearing the end of this month, we still feel the grief associated with loss. Many losses. Big losses.
Grief is a deep emotion that bears a deep honoring. Too often our culture encourages us to just get back to doing the normal things. Keep busy. Don’t get drug down. The company where Jay works has a good policy for those who have lost a loved one. They give them an entire paid week off. No questions. It did my heart good to watch him honor his emotions by just being present with them for the whole week he took off.
The grief associated with losing family members, be they two-legged or four-legged, is a movement of the deep waters of the soul.
After losing Cherry I took time to reflect upon the partnership she and I shared. She was our Saint. She was my best school horse! She taught many people, kids and adults, how to be in right relationship with horses. She taught me how to be a better teacher. She asked to continue to be a part of things as a teacher when she could no longer carry anyone on her back. We were thrilled that she insisted upon being a part of the equine facilitated workshops we’ve hosted. Her deep wisdom and experience added so much to the weekends! She stood in her age without any embarrassment for the fact that her beauty was a little faded. She shared her wisdom regarding soul sovereignty. She encouraged us all to walk with our shoulders back, our head high and our tail waving in the wind. Thank you Cherry being with us and for all you taught me and others.
Bentley was a good dog. Bentley was a happy dog. Bentley loved everyone!!!! In turn everyone loved Bentley. It’s difficult for me to write how much this dog means to us. When one considers loyalty, Bentley should be the poster child. Bentley was found as a stray when he was approximately one year old. When I brought him home, it was apparent that he had done whatever it took to survive, including kill chickens. After he killed a couple of chickens from my flock, I had grave concerns about whether we could keep him or not. I started looking into solutions and determined that maybe a shock collar might do the trick. I went and purchased one. I just never felt really right about it, though. So I took the shock collar out to Bentley and sat down and had a stern talk with him. I told him that I got the shock collar to stop him from eating chickens. I told him that we would provide him with all the food he needed. I shared that if he continued to kill chickens I might have to get rid of him. He sat and listened. His eyes never looked up as I looked intently at him and pictured him being shocked, or him having to leave. I took the shock collar and put it back in the house, still uncertain if I could really use it. That shock collar never came back out of the box after that day. No chicken has ever been lost to our dogs ever since that day! Bentley and Buckwheat took that talk to such heart that any time a visiting dog comes over, they pounce on that dog when it gets close to the chickens – letting them know that the chickens are off limits. Bentley never had to worry about not getting food again and I never had to worry about the loyalty and devotion of that dog! Thank you Bentley for being here, we miss you greatly.
Jay’s father was a good man. His devotion to his family was readily apparent. Jay held his father in such high regard he chose him to be his best man at our wedding. Though, I feel that I didn’t get to know Duane as well as I think I may have enjoyed, I always felt comfortable around him. Not an easy thing for a high empath with PTSD when it comes to fathers. Jay is preparing to head to AZ for a full military honors interment of his father’s ashes. I’m glad he will be taking some extra time to spend with his mother and his sister. His sister has really taken on the bulk of taking care of the family during this crisis and I hope she knows just how much Jay and I appreciate all that she is doing for everyone and takes some time to take care of herself as well. Thank you Duane for raising the man who I love and appreciate, thank you for being the good man you were.
Such is grief. We have been taught as a culture to stoically accept our losses. We are allowed to grieve in a way that does not ‘upset’ others. No wailing. No outright sobbing. Gently dab those tears away so others don’t feel quite so bad for us. We are ‘comforted’ with platitudes of “they had a good life,” and “they are in a better place now”. As true as these statements may be, I find myself bristling when they are said. Yes, each of our losses were those of long-lived and well-lived lives. Yes, they are each pain free now. I still miss them. I miss their very breath. I miss their warmth. I cannot just feel all warm inside because they had a good life or because they are in a ‘better’ place now. I am grieving their loss. I still cry for them. I cry when I remember a loving act, or an endearing habit, or just their way of panting, or nickering.
I am allowing the deep waters to move as gently or torrentially as they need to at any given time. Bypassing the hurt by knowing they are ‘happy’ now serves no one. I am hurting because I lost loved ones. And that is real and special and should be deeply honored. By honoring the loss I am honoring the love that is a part of LIFE. Please, just hold sacred space for us and help us honor the loss while we, at the same time celebrate the transition.
Grief. It doesn’t end overnite. It doesn’t end with a platitude. It just is and needs to be allowed to flow. Grief is the deep waters of the soul.