You know, I have never experienced grief as deep as I have in this past year. My precious dad died on March 16, 2010. I just don’t like what that day represents now. I don’t like March 16th.
It was the most horrific 8 months of my life to watch my dad find out he had lung cancer, then bone cancer, and to watch him realize he was going to die – so young. I watched my daddy fade away before my very eyes. He took it like a champ. I so admire the way he handled this abrupt disruption of a life he loved. In stride: That’s how he seemed to take it, but not without worry, wonder, and hope delayed.
I really – realllllly miss my dad. I miss you, Dad.
I remember thinking a few months after he died that I just wanted to move on to the next phase of grief, no matter what it was. I didn’t know the “grief stages,” but I read a couple of books. I decided right away that whatever emotions came my way, whatever flashbacks or memories I had….I would simply embrace them and experience whatever came with them. I didn’t want to shove them away for another day. Wow. The emotions have certainly come, escorting me to many uncharted regions in my soul. At times, though, I would feel so overcome with powerful emotions that I would say, “Okay, God. I want to move on now. Make this stop. Let me be done.” It just hurt so much.
And then I would sense a change. What I was wrestling with or mourning would seem to lighten; even pass by, and I’d feel a sense of relief. I would begin to look ahead at getting back to “normal” again (meaning “less pain please”). Seems to me though, that it just keeps coming back in different waves…whenever “it” deems it should. So, on and on I go trying to take all of this in stride - still.
This week a wave hit me again. I would liken it to a Tsunami. I found myself sitting on my chair journaling and reading the Bible. I was enjoying the ocean view so to speak, when all of a sudden something hit me and POW! I was absolutely bawling and broken. No one was home so my sobs had freedom to express themselves in full. I know I’m not alone in this. I’m sure many of you reading have had more than your share of grief. This kind of grief; however, is the first I’ve ever experienced.
All this to say, you should have seen what Lucy, our dog, did. When I broke out in a sob she looked up from her sleepy laying position on the floor and seemed to observe me. When the sobs got more intense she simply got up, came to my chair and stood in a protective stance, like it was her duty to do it. I had no strength to move, I was overcome. Lucy rounded the foot rest and softly lay her head on my lap. My moans of sadness would not relent, and I managed to place my hand on her fuzzy head in gratitude. Next, she ever so carefully heaved her 60 pound frame onto my cushion, front legs only, appearing to guard me. She looked around the room, neck slightly outstretched, muscular body firmly planted next to mine. She sniffed and sniffed my wet, salty face but did not lick it as usual. She stood her ground like a regal queen.
When my sobs began to subside, she hesitated but gently hopped her front legs down and walked to the front of my stool, planted at my feet, and sat down. When I quieted another notch, she moved back to her position on the floor – soft brown eyes looking up at me…watching. My whimpers came to a halt and steadiness returned to me when I saw her peacefully close her eyes and go back to her place of rest. The episode was over. It was if she said to me, “It’s all in a day’s work.”
What a gift in grief that pesky little (I mean BIG) dog is. Is this what you had in mind when you created dogs, God? What a treasure. Thank you, Lord, for Lucy.
