Some days it’s sadness. Some days it’s loneliness. Some days it’s just fog. Things don’t get better, they don’t get easier, they just get “different”. It has been a little more than two months now since Klaus passed away. I haven’t really been able to talk about it much. Whenever I think too hard the numbness returns – kindly obstructing the worst of the pain or at least pushing it into a different part of my brain allowing me to “function” – which is oddly comforting and a strange sort of awesome.
I had my first “feature length” dream about Klaus last night. He has only popped up once before and only in a cameo role. I only sleep for a few hours at a time before I wake up, turn around, move the dog or a cat (a little), and hopefully go back to sleep. It was nice. Very nice (but apparently there isn’t enough beer in dreamland according to Klaus).
Many days I would prefer to just pull up the covers and allow the day to pass, untouched. Many, many, many days. Especially on the dark, rainy ones when the water beats like a drum on the window just behind my head. Thump, thump, thump. But it is not to be. No rest for the weary when there is a young, energetic Airedale around. He sees to it that my daily exercise needs are met (several hours, minimum), that I have some human interaction (other people stopping to say how cute he is), and that I don’t feel completely alone and unloved (constant face licking and following).
Walking by the river is always good – it’s close to home, and the walk can be tailored into a longer one or a shorter one depending on weather conditions or mental conditions. And tonight there were many sunbreaks in between the clouds…
Sunny? Why yes, it’s SUNNY. It was overcast just a minute ago…
I thought for sure Bogart was going to get his head caught in that fencing. While it would have indeed been amusing, I’m pretty darned happy that didn’t happen. I did wonder what Bogart found so fascinating at the bottom, though.
But no time for wondering (or thinking, or crying)… Bogart is ready to move on to the next thing…
Other dogs. Of course. How could I not know that?
Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha…
Love,
Lulu & Bogart
Lulu, I know this is still very hard for you! From your postings, it sounds like you are doing just fine, but I also know that in your “real world”, things are much different. Someone once told me something that I didn’t believe, at the time, right after I lost someone. He said that there would come a time when I would feel guilty because I had not, yet, thought of that person part way through my day. Well, it has been 4 years, now, and he was right! It took a looooong time, and I still think of that person every single day, but the time did come when it wasn’t my very first thought, in the morning and my last thought at night.
I know it doesn’t seem possible right now, but hang in there. It does get a little easier to handle as time goes by. I’m glad you had the dream of Klaus and I hope it comforted you in some small way.
Aire-hugs,
Lana (Mom to the 3 P’s)
Weather in Portland…tailor made for mourning. Just enough sunshine to keep you moving. Good thing Airedales are waterproof.
So are Wirey Fellas
Gussie d
Lulu: you’re so articulate, in terms of describing your grief. My brother was killed on a motorcycle, 22 years ago, and my father succumbed to cancer 11 years ago. I dream about them both, sometimes vividly… almost as though they were trying to talk to me. My brother’s death was sudden, a shocker, and all I can recall, for the months immediately following his passing, was that I was in a chronic fog. I was on auto-pilot, interacting with others, but not all “there.” My memories of my brother’s funeral are strange, in that it was an almost out-of-body experience, some images and experiences are sharp, but most of it… lost. Or it’s in a dusty file in my memory somewhere. My father’s battle with cancer was arduous, three years, and I thought I’d be more prepared when he died… but I wasn’t. I think it is wonderful you have your Bogart to walk, to reconnect you to nature, to rejoice in the gentle, green living things, to find a certain spirituality in it. I’ve always said that dogs make the best icebreakers. I’m not always sure people like me, (hee hee), but they love my crazy dog.
Your loss is fathomless. I hope others continue to reach out to you and be supportive, tender… seems like Bogart is really good for your spirits now. Give yourself plenty of time. Grief is a day at a time, sometimes, it’s a minute at a time.
We’re sending you big rumbly purrs to help you feel better.
Milo and Alfie xx
We are keeping you in our thoughts and hope the sun shines for you.
Simba and Jazzi xx
loves to you both
Dear Lulu,
Be gentle with yourself. It has only been two months. You’re lucky to have Bogart. I remember the day I suddenly looked at the grass and realized it was green. Or looked at a grey day in the Pacific Northwest and realized that grey was its own color with various shades. Grief moves at its own pace.
Keep writing and know that not only Bogart and the cats are there for you, but a blogosphere of others.
Dear Lulu,
I firmly believe, that when our beloved departed ones come to us in our dreams, they really DO come to visit us, to comfort us, to love us, to show us that they are ALWAYS with us and always will be. These wonderful dreams don’t happen often, so treasure them, Lulu. It is those mornings when you wake up because you are smiling, it is those mornings when you wake up feeling soooo loved, feeling happy, before realizing where you are and what’s the reality. Klaus loves you and Bogie. That is what he is telling you in your dreams. But you, of course, always knew that, right?
Big hearty hug to you and Bogie,
Love and Blessings,
Andy’s and BelAire’s mama
Hi Lulu,
we were very moved by this post and know how tough things must be for you – and surreal. Well, actually, we don’t know – we can only imagine – but you have described things so well and so personally that we feel we can understand.
If Klaus is coming to see you in your dreams then sleep easy – he is there with you and he knows how much you miss him and he only wants to show you both he’s still there, somewhere.
Take a lot of care,
Kate, Molly and Gertrude
xx