Dharma has been gone two weeks yesterday. It feels like two minutes. Seconds. A wet, brave blink and she was dead. I'm the only one still crying. Whimsical little Molly only knew her as a quiet old dog, and flittered away from her tiny grieving to toys and pretend worlds and learning words. Logical, comforting Shane understands the simple, obvious fact of death. His heart sinks like mine when he opens doors to empty spaces she used to be. But he's comfortable with her absence I think.
I'm the one crying still, the one whose tears flow at the slightest peaks of emotions. I think sometimes I was made more than anything else to weep. I'm the emotion in our Tao of a marriage, always. The bleeding crying heart-thinker. Feeler.
But I'm crying for me and my home, my family. My sweet dog went gently, so softly. I'm reading Dylan Thomas quotes all through my book: Do not go gentle into that good night... I've always hated that poem. When mom was dying all I wanted in my world was for her to stop raging against the dying of the light, to relax into dark, sweet night. I want my death and the death of my beloveds to be gentle. I want to sink down into warm blankets and then down, down into earth/mother. I don't want a warrior blaze of pain and then a lifting up far away from soil and flowers and rainfall to some alien heaven.
It's a hard idea for me to grasp, the fight against death, but it's strange to me that left after a death, I cry for ages. My love is so much bigger than my mind.
My therapist sees her challenge with me as teaching me to think with my brain and not my heart. To separate and identify emotions versus facts. I call myself brainy, but it's just that I have a large knowledge base to express my "heart."
I miss her so. I think of her when I hear every dog playing in the hollow and with every door opened. I open my computer to work and I remember Dharmadog Designs, LLC., our old web company. Our logo was inspired by the Dharma Wheel and the paw print of our little muse. (I can't find the image now.)
I've never felt a space so empty before. When mom died I went home to my new apartment on our lot- I could see her bedroom window from my porch, but it was at a remove. This house is so still right now. I'm home alone and there's no one to look after, to feed, to pet or snuggle.
It's peaceful and melancholy and I can live in all this space right now. A couple of hours of time/space with a new design business to build, new art to make. Tea, a bath, a book.
Image from Buddha Gifts: http://www.zazzle.ca/gifts?ch=buddhagifts
Support the Arts: Help me with my upcoming exhibit. All donors receive incentive prizes. Join me and collaborators Megan Dailey of Unblinking i Photography and Gregg Oxley from 5pm - 8pm for the July ArtWalk in Charleston, WV, Thursday July 19th.