“A dog is the only thing on Earth
that loves you more than
it loves itself.”
― Josh Billings
My Facebook page shares with me the posts from previous years. Each day I visit the label called ‘Memories’ to view what was happening in my life on this day from the past posts. This week and last week the previous year’s posts were filled with tributes to my beloved dog Buddha Bear whose brain tumor and seizures worsened such that his quality of life was diminished and I was faced with the hardest decision I have ever needed to make — once again.
One year ago this past week — in the comfort of the cottage surrounded by his two French Bulldog pals and overseen by Dr. Terry and Tracey — we quietly and respectfully let Buddha Bear fall into a forever sleep. Dearest friend Miguel responded immediately to my cries for help and my plea “I can’t do this alone” and helped made it happen.
I am so grateful. Grateful for the life of Buddha Bear. Grateful for the friendship of Miguel. Grateful for Dr. Terry and Jackie who came to the cottage and supported me and Buddha Bear with love and expertise.
The first time I needed to do this hardest task was with my childhood dog, Speckles. I returned from college on Spring break and was told that the appointment was made and I needed to be the one to take our dog to the vet. I can barely use the words “put to sleep.”
I didn’t understand at the time why I had to do this heart-wrenching task. Later in life, I reflected upon this and realized that the pain my mother carried for all of her adult life from losing her firstborn son at the age of five was too present for her to risk touching her strong feelings of pain. When my mother lived with me during her final year of life, I came to understand that she feared that pain. Feared the grief that came with it. She felt her fear as a tide that might carry her away – mentally and physically.
I now realize that I have chosen not to close myself down to the opportunity to experience love or loss. I am grateful that I have made my peace with grief and pain. I accept that it is part of life. I do not wallow in the moments when painful emotions or grief flood my system. I am not afraid of where the feelings will take me. I will not allow them to overwhelm me.
This morning, Facebook gave me these words, words that I typed one year ago today.
What I am learning about grief.
It is different each time. It attaches to previous losses.
It steals your energy and pieces of your mind.
It reflects, like a pool of water, the depth of your love given and received.
It is not to be avoided but embraced as the way to appreciate what you had.
The waves of feelings cleanse the pain.
The painful memories recede, and the loving lessons take center stage.
Your chest feels empty and the well of your love for others feels empty.
However, there is a spring beneath that well that will fill your heart space and slowly,
It will find fullness again. Your capacity for loving and feeling and receiving will return.
Don’t try to close it down. Let time and the support of others carry you gently.
And you will be carried on the wings of the one you loved and lost.
You will never be without grief. Grief is the reflection of love.
This line of thinking may seem to conflict with what I have written in the last two blogs, which explored love, relationships, and marriage. Today, I realize that grief is a reflection of the depth of love. To love completely and unconditionally is also to grieve when love can no longer manifest.
I almost wrote when the love no longer exists. But this wonderful, powerful emotion called love endures even when its partner is gone. I still love Buddha Bear, Big Boy, Speckles, and my parents — who all have passed. That love is co-mingled with grief. Over time, the grief lessens and the love fills the spaces of loss.
You might be thinking — or even saying: “What is this recent change in Leslie’s writing? Where is the working-consultant Leslie with new ideas, observations, and lessons for us to apply to our work and working relationships?”
I am still here, friends. I am discovering that the line between who I am at work and who I am all the time is very blended.
I am seeing the lessons of life being the lessons of work and living as well — with some variations in boundaries.
I am really curious to know what is bubbling up for you as the winter turns to spring and the new buds of life are showing up.
• What feelings are you learning to embrace and now bring with you everywhere you go?
Keep up the sharing and the caring,
Leslie
“Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.”
— Rumi
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