Thank you for your comforting comments about Stella. I have cried a lot over the last couple of days. But I have also laughed too. All the emotions are okay. Every single one of them.
I felt that knot in my chest at various times during the past week. It was the knot of fear. I know that feeling well. It happens when I realize that something is going to happen to someone or one of my animals, and I can do nothing to change the course of that. It is the fear of the known--not the unknown but the knowing that things are out of control.
I've had that fear so many times--when my father died, when my mother died, when my wife was drinking, when she had her heart attack, when an animal was sick. That fear of losing loved ones would sit like a huge weight on my heart.
I take comfort these days in knowing that I can take action only to a point. I can do the medical things necessary. I can make someone comfortable who is in pain. I can hold them and be with them when death is near. But what happens ultimately is out of my control. I cannot love them back to life or wellness. And that has helped to ease the fear. I pray for those who are sick and suffering and give them to the God of my understanding--that great cosmic energy that connects us in life and in death.
I used to wish that my love was powerful enough to make others well, live longer, be happy. I wanted to love my wife out of her alcoholism. It does not work that way. And it was no coincidence that the first post I read this morning was one that Pammie wrote about how we can't love someone out of their addiction. We truly aren't that powerful. She says it best:
I want to somehow tell the normal people out there to lighten up on yourselves because you aren't that powerful, you can not do anything to change the damage, you can't fix the limp. Your life is valuable to God and it is OK, I believe, to not sacrifice so much of your life for the addict because all your love is not what's missing for the addict. If the only thing standing between drug addiction and sobriety was the addict needing love and support.......well damn, just about everyone would be clean and sober.
Amen.
Hi there. The knot in your chest - I remember that all too well after we lost our dog in 2003. I do want to recommend a good book for you that helped me absorb the pain of the loss and make sense of my grief. It is called Animals as Teachers and Healers. I found comfort in it when my grief overwhelmed me.
ReplyDeleteShe had a wonderful life. When your grief gets too much please please try to remember that. As a dog you gave her a life of love and fun and comfort. So many animals never get a chance to know the kindness of man. She is watching over you and in time she will send you another dog to pick up where she left. This I know because our pup is now 4 1/2 years old and she is so loving and I know she is carrying forth the love Maxx, our dog who died, wants us to know and feel.
As my husband says,"....they ask no questions and pass no judgement..." And their spirit is amazing to me.
Syd I am sorry for you and losing your companion animal, grieve as you must for that is healthy.
ReplyDeleteAs for your power--you might be surprised at how much power to add to life you really have bud. Don't think as a scientist but rather a man who has seen what he does not know how to define and go with it, learn it, then use the knowledge of it. The entire cosmos from sea to sea was made just for you. Find your peace within your being.
Understanding our powerlessness over death and illness and knowing that our part is acceptance and comfort brings much freedom to serve and love freely without the expectation that we will move mountains, make the lame walk, and raise the dead.
ReplyDeleteWe *aren't* that powerful....although I forget sometimes. :o)
It sounds like you are feeling more at peace with your loss. ((HUG)) I am glad for that.
And what a beautiful world it would be. But. It doesn't work that way, does it?
ReplyDeleteSometimes love comes in stepping back and allowing things to happen of their own accord. This may be the hardest form of loving.
To accept that our part in a process is to allow it to happen.
...thank you for your honesty i am often touched by your writings, and today i want to thank you for the link...in your grief it feels as though you threw me a lifesaver! i've been feeling overpowered by the power of the disease. today i see that my power is in acceptance and in the group of all the fine people who share their experience, strength and hope. thank you
ReplyDeletewhen i pretend i am powerful is when it tends to hurt the most...
ReplyDeleteI know the knot you are talking about, and have been coming to the same conclusion about my own powers and limitations. Acceptance of our role makes possible a measure of peace. Thank you for sharing this.
ReplyDeleteThis really hit home today. Thanks, as always, for posting.
ReplyDeleteMonica
I am so sorry for your loss!
ReplyDeleteawe syd, i am so sorry to hear of your loss. i am grateful you are still blogging
ReplyDeleteI've been fortunate to not have a lot a death in my life... but am grateful for my program as I know there will be someday. It's a good post as a reminder that I am powerless over people, places and things and I need to let go of that illusion of control. For me tears can be very healing when dealing with grief.
ReplyDeleteOh, Syd, don't we know Pammie's words are true!
ReplyDelete"If the only thing standing between drug addiction and sobriety was the addict needing love and support.......well damn, just about everyone would be clean and sober."
ReplyDeleteTrue this. Thanks for this Syd. I know it's hard to go through painful loss. I know the fear of knowing just how much it's going to hurt. But, here's to knowing it won't hurt this bad forever. :)
I'm sorry for your loss, Syd. But thank you for sharing your thoughts and for the link...it was just what I needed to hear today.
ReplyDeleteYour words and thoughts are always so powerful and I agree with all the comments.
ReplyDeleteBut, I had to chuckle over your use of the phrase "normal people".
My Mum has Scoliosis surgery tomorrow and it's very serious.. and I am trying to not stress myself about it too much. hank you for this post and I love the one linked.
ReplyDeleteHelplessness, powerlessness are hard to deal with -- and I know that knot of fear Syd. Some things we can change and others we simply have to endure.
ReplyDeleteMy heart if with you and C in your grief.
I had a similar confusion about my "power" when loved ones faced death or life-threatening illness. I thought that if I prayed with enough faith for their healing, then God would listen and grant my wish. Of course, when they died, it was my fault for not praying with sufficient faith.
ReplyDeleteI was relieved to discover that life is basically fatal. Death is not the enemy of life; apathy is, and the journey through dying is an honorable part of life, no matter how it hurts. Through the 12 Steps, I discovered a Higher Power who isn't grading my prayers to see if someone's life can be saved, but who instead offers grace and mercy to every one of his children so they can experience joy no matter what their circumstances might be. All that is asked of me is that I be present and grateful, and willing to be a blessing to someone else.
I'm so sorry for your loss, Syd. You expressed that feeling of fear before loss very well and I agree that it's the knowledge that we can't control it that makes it so powerful.
ReplyDeleteShe did say it so well, and I am grateful for everything that you shared about Stella and I'm sorry for your loss. My two lovable furry kids are 11 and the white hairs are getting more and more visible so are the grumbles of old age.
ReplyDeleteWe really are powerless to change the world just becuase we decide IT should be changed, but the world we live in can be changed in perspective to how we believe. Attitude changes the world I live in from hostile and dangerous, to challenging, interesting and full of love and kindness.
I'm so sorry. Stella looks like my old dog who passed so many years ago. I knew too. When I was sad, he would put his paw on me and keep pushing until I fell over and we would wrestle until I laughed through the tears. But when he was old and sick I started crying about it and he turned his head away. He was telling me that I needed to learn to deal without him. Then, a few days later, the same thing happened. I walked out of the room to call the vet and when I came back, the old dog had gone on ahead.
ReplyDelete