I try not to write so much about my grief here on the blog, but I realized at some point in our lives we all grieve. What I have come to understand about my personal grief is this, you can think you are handling things pretty well, but then a grief tsunami washes over you and you realize you are a real amateur when it comes to grieving .
This morning my tsunami hit. In all my years of loss, of parents, of a brother, of friends, of grandparents and beloved aunts and uncles and pets, jobs you name loss I thought I had grieved.
Even with Rick I kept having all these what I called meltdowns but the biggie hit today.
It started with a text I sent to a friend this morning. For those who really know me, you know that music has played a major part in my life since I was a child. Music has always brought me incredible joy, gotten me through sad times, bad times and good times. But since Rick has died, I can't pick up the guitar, can't sing and the worst of it all I can't listen to music and I have tried. I can listen to snippets but to listen to a whole song of any genre ( country, blues ( my favorite), folk, rock, new age, classical) I can't do it. I sent my friend who is a singer/songwriter and lover of music the text.
About two hours later I was drowning, lying face down on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably, pleading with Rick to come back and wishing I could go to sleep and not wake up.
Since Rick's death I had cried, I have had many moments of anger, this morning was the deepest sadness I have ever experienced in my life. I could taste loss, feel it, smell it. As I lay there, Kodak came over to the couch and began to lick my face. I had a profound understanding of the workings of the universe at that point. In November when Kodak the puppy wondered up in our yard, we did every thing possible to find his family but no luck. I kept telling Rick we just couldn't keep him, he was too active, too lively, a chewer. Calliou didn't like him, Hook tolerated him and Taz was planning his demise. But Rick, he loved that wacky pup so of course we kept him. Did I mention he chewed up over $500 in shoes, countless towels, napkins and anything else he could get his teeth into.
Today as I drowned in my grief and he licked my face and would not leave my side I understood why we kept him, why he's here.
Tropical rains moved in early, so it was bit later before I could walk the dogs. After my episode on the sofa the rains moved out for a while and the dogs and I headed out. As I took my daily path down the side of the yard to the barn, I saw something white on my largest gardenia bush. Now our blooms and buds have been gone for months, but there in the middle of all those lush green leaves was a pure white fragrant blossom. Gardenias, I can't get enough of them, when they bloom I fill the house with vases of them. Rick knew those were flowers that were dear to my heart. It was as though after all the grief, there was hope and love in that single blossom. I believe in signs, do you?
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