No more Lieberman, no more lacks or inabilities. No more shitting and peeing himself or being confined to his wheel chair. No more frustration at lack of communication. No need for me to worry about his future decline, his inability to communicate not feeling well, his continued loss of mobility and awareness, making sure he got enough massage and exercise so his muscles and joints would't freeze up.
We had a good 18 months at Lieberman with a lot of laughter, hugs, kisses, chocolates, and watching South Pacific over and over. Homemade pies, plants in the windows, flowers to smell, new shirts, discovering pants that zipped down both sides to the knees, Manny-our personal blessing.
As I got into bed and glanced at the photograph of Gregory which is on his shelf on the bookcase, I pictured him lying in his bed at Lieberman just after he had died and I lost it! The mystery and finality of death is so large. The "never agains" of holding, seeing, nurturing, laughing, crying together. Of not being alone.
Remembering: I sat with him and talked to him and cried for a while. I held his still warm hand and kissed his cooling forehead and lips. I had wondered if I would be able to get through this part of Gregory's leaving us and it turned out to be fairly easy. (At least at the time.) It was still my Greggie lying there in his bed but it was obvious that his essence, his spirit was no longer living there.
I use the word "keen" as I have before: loud wailing or lament for the dead. As I howled and wailed, Gigi came to comfort and console me. She jumped into bed and rubbed against me. I pet her soft fur and felt her purring as I continued crying but felt better at having someone to with whom to cry.
After I settled down, Gigi did an interesting thing. She had only done this once before, that I know of. She went over to the side table on Gregory's side of the bed and with her front paws, stepped up onto Gregory's Memorial Shelf where she "nosed" Grandma Carrie's box which contains Gregory's ashes. She stayed there for several moments and then returned to me.
It is as if she sensed that Gregory was the reason I was crying and that Gregory's spirit was there in the room with me as I mourned. That too made me feel better. Cats have an amazing awareness of their surroundings and possibly can feel what we human are not able to sense. I was able to peacefully drift off to sleep.
Gregory's Memorial Shelf. You can see the tip of his nightstand in the lower right corner.
In my experience, one gets prepared. No one is ever 'ready' when the time comes. The shock renders us able to get through the events of the day. The true work comes later.
ReplyDeleteI am impressed by the cat Gigi.
Gigi is a sensitive one and a lover! So right that one ever knows when grief will land unexpectedly on your head even if you feel prepared!
DeleteI hesitate to describe your powerful description of emotions as a skill, but I honestly can only think of some playwrights who have the ability to portray in words the depths of emotion that you do. Just now checked on Virginia Woolf, a very impressive playwright, and saw an article on her writing about grieving. Amazingly, the article was just published today by Huffington Post. Even though is mourning the loss of her mother, her expressions about grieving are very similar to what you just blogged. ( you have to read to the end to see the best and most like you)
ReplyDeleteHugs,
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