In the Silence Now

In the silence now there is the joy of memory and the blessing of hope.


I discovered last week that I am no longer able to post youtube links, which is sad for me since I had been saving a few things to post when my little bunny finally left. Music has always been such a large part of my life,and through me, I think also Lila's. I have to be careful right now not to play the sad things too much. yesterday afternoon I played Song for Humanity by Carlos Nakai and Peter Kater - New Age, but stunningly beautiful - and was so overwhelmed with grief I could hardly speak. I know that active grieving is helpful, necessary, that without it we simply will never heal. I read Elizabeth Kubler-Ross in the mornings and it helps. But I also have to think of my poor little man, who is so sad, so deeply affected, it's beyond the pale of what I can stand to see him miss her like this. I know we all have to try to adjust. I just want to spare him the sound of my anguish, as much as I can. I find giving myself emotional rest-periods where I play more upbeat music or simply watch a good film is very helpful, for us both.

I've set up a memorial table for my little bunny, with her pictures, a large white beeswax candle, white flowers, her favourite toys, and my framed diploma from Cynology College. That last may seem a bit odd, but I would never have received it - would never have studied canine natural health and nutrition to this extent, without Lila. She brought me to this work, and to TTouch, and of course, to so much more.

How was it I depended so greatly on her but often didn't even notice it? I think that her love and strength had just become a part of me, of who I am, like the feel of her silky head or the great ruff of fur around her neck is so imprinted on my senses, I can still feel her - I mean I can physically feel her near - and suspect I always will.

Oh how I wish I'd taken time for a few more of her beloved bellyrubs.
Oh how I wish I had been better able to keep Danny from ripping into her toys like he did.

I always expected Lila to understand, good little spirit that she was and is.

Yes, I am experiencing regret, for a dog everyone says I was beyond good to - and, I know I was good to her. I know how deep my love is for her and I know SHE knew it. I also accept that life is never perfect, that I have been struggling greatly this past year with health, money problems, and bringing up Daniel, who is very demanding and high energy. In wanting life to have been perfect for Lila I can't take the hard facts out of the equation - I have problems like everyone else and things are rarely "perfect".

But in the shocking reality of never seeing her again, the mind tunnels backwards into the what ifs. I know she would have died much earlier if it hadn't been for me. I know she had a life full of love, care and respect, one that few dogs, even loved ones, ever enjoy. I know her death was a passage as filled with love and tenderness as anyone of us could ever wish for.
But still, I find ways to look backward and fault myself.

Is this tendency representative of some internal demon I need to overcome, as pop psychology would no doubt insist, or a spiritual truth to be cherished, examined, and cultivated? In our disposable Dr. Phil world we think all problems and pains are thinsg to medicate or fix, asap, but for me, there is always something more.
There are many more things I want to say here - about my girl, about her last days, about what we (me and Dan) are feeling and experiencing now...but I am still physically weakened and awash with sadness, that blunts my ability to both think and communicate.

Right now, I am working through these regrets and listening deeply, listening to that voice which tells me what to do next, because it's the very best part of me. That one voice I trust. That voice she opened my heart to hearing.
And she has indeed left me with issues to examine, things to consider, pathways that lead to the betterment of my own spirit. How often do we really have an angel by our side for 13 years? How often do we allow love to so transform us we barely recognize ourselves?
There is more sadness than words can say - and there are things to be learned and addressed. But there is gratitude, love, joy, tenderness - laughter - and I know, in time, I will get there fully again.