Serious Nahum fluffs!
I'm very aware that the one year anniversary of Willow's death is rapidly approaching. I've still not been able to write about her death or even update the blog to indicate that she's gone. I think about it often and even tried to write about it a few times. Something continues to keep me from accepting it, still feels like we just moved without her. I've come to realize that my spark for life died with her. Depression, sometimes overwhelming, has been the norm. A few months ago I cracked the lid on the un-felt grief and quickly experienced intense overwhelm. My pain-driven thoughts went to some scary places, so I did my best to close the lid once more.
This year has held many experiences. Willow's swift and unexpected death. Selling our home without another place to move to. Moving across country with six cats. (Trying to) settle into a new living space. Trying to love on my parents who act like they are allergic to love and connection. Starting a new private practice. All the while, my tender heart has felt mostly offline, closed. Joy and hope feel like distant concepts. Occasionally in my work, I would get moments of life and tenderness. The cats have usually been a great source of life, but now when I'm with them all I can think about is their impending deaths. Of course Marvin's recent death scare didn't help.
In early December I managed to re-engage in some dormant spiritual practices, but with my heart being closed, it didn't feel satisfying, and yet I knew it was helping. I started to think about maybe finding a spiritual retreat that might nourish my parched soul, and it would allow me to create intentional space to grieve and work through Willow's death. I found a place near Boston. I was thinking maybe a weekend or something, but then I noticed they had a 5-day directed, silent retreat that concluded on the 1-year anniversary of Willow's death. I prayed that a mysterious check would arrive to cover the cost and sure enough the next day, that very thing happened. Suddenly, this idea got very real and I was going. Yikes!
I leave tomorrow (Friday) to continue this grieving journey. I'm terrified to go into that dark cave of grief and yet I know I must - freedom awaits on the other side. I need to reclaim my will to live, which is what I know Willow would want for me. I'm terrified that if I go on this retreat I will discover that Willow did actually die and that I'll need to accept that and let go. The truth can be so painful. And yet, experience has told me that the truth also sets me free.
The retreat starts Friday dinner time and ends Wednesday at lunch. Your prayers, thoughts, and purrs are all welcome.
Brave heart, Tegan...
Absolutely. I always will.ReplyDelete
Yes, it sure can be painful but the love is worth it.ReplyDelete
You absolutely have our purrayers, purrs and Light.ReplyDelete
Prayers and hugs to you. I know the grief process is so hard. I am still mourning the death of my brother and then 6 weeks later the death of my Charlie Kitty. I am seeing a therapist that has helped me deal with so much going on in my life. I wish you peace my friend.ReplyDelete
Good Luck! You can do this. You have words for it and that is a big step forward already. And you know that caring is a two-way street. My dad always says things like "why get a dog (pet) because they just die" which is indicative of his relationship to the world - an isolationist, not willing to take risks, not willing to experience the benefits that come with caring. The heights of enjoying the companionship of fur-children is often mirrored by the depths of despair when they go; the human capacity to care is a springing, acrobat's net in which flexibility is a key ingredient. And I appreciate the Doctor reference - I recognized it but had to look it up to really place it! Hmm - how many cats would fit in a Tardis? Cue Dr. Who music...ReplyDelete
Here's hoping that this retreat allows you to mend your broken heart. So many things happened in a short time for you; the effects of it all obviously led to a kind of shock. Be well, friend!ReplyDelete
too many thing happening at once....ReplyDelete
and with willow: grief comes with 7 stages; so they say and sadly you must go through them to get past them. I hope the retreat brings you through this; willow wants to see dad happy again ....safe travels ♥♥♥
Sending positive thoughts, prayers and purrs. I've lost two of my purr-kids over the past 8 years; a 16 year old that I rescued when he was 5 mo old and lost to CRF 8 years ago and 13-1/2 year old (also a rescue at age 5 years) of hyperthyroidism. I was devastated both times and frequently found myself crying whenever I thought about them and the things we did together. I still miss them and still get teary-eyed when I think about them, but time has lessened the pain. They both have a place in my heart that will always be theirs, but as someone once said, I wouldn't have missed the love we shared when they were alive to avoid the pain of losing them. I hope and believe YOUR memories will, in time, ease your pain. Share your grief with the rest of your purr-babies--they will help you through your grief.ReplyDelete
I hope this retreat will bring you some peace.ReplyDelete
Sending prayers that this retreat helps you heal and move forward.ReplyDelete
I hope your heart finds some peace. But to be truthful I'm not in a position to be able to offer much comfort in that area. I still grieve my beloved Abby and she's been gone 1972 days. I don't know why I count the days but I do. I remind myself that one day she'll be gone longer than she lived with me and I'm not sure yet what significance that will hold. I am on a journey which I've yet to find an answer or a destination yet. I think I'm walking to find her again. But I'll have to wait until I pass over to her side I believe to do that, and until then I'm adrift.ReplyDelete
It is so hard that the only way to get over grief is through it. I can relate so well to many of the feelings you expressed here. We lost Kit a year almost to the day that we moved and it still felt like she was just in the other room and that we moved without her.. and now with Jack..ReplyDelete
I hope you find some peace and comfort.
we are late reading this, but from the next post it sounds like you found some solaceReplyDelete