I honestly don't know. If forced to answer I would have to say its as deep, varied and in every case as different as love and hate.
Its not the immediate deep wrenching loss of death, oh no, its longer, harder leaping at you in unexpected ways and at unexpected times. It may seem as though you no sooner think you're 'over it' than something long dormant springs to mind and therefore life and you're left stunned with immediate loss and pain as if the disaster, tragedy, break up, death had just that moment happened.
Disobedient eyes well up with the tears you thought you'd shed enough but suddenly and without warning you find you hadn't.
Last Thursday Ollie died and what the hell he's a dog and a dogs a dog, right? No People who think like that couldn't be more wrong and maybe are unfit to ever have animals in their lives.
Whatever.
Mostly I'm already accustomed to his passing. He is gone I walk to his grave a dozen times a day I talk to him and Herself and I'm over it. I am.
Until I look at the food. I know, have always known I cook too much for any one meal it probably stems from being part of a largish family and maybe there's a hint of my own greed involved but it never mattered Ollie took care of the excess food situation and if truth be told I probably, almost certainly, cooked some extra just for him. I never cooked one slice of bacon, I rarely eat as much as a whole slice but Ollie would be at my feet doing his half starved act.
Since Thursday I've had so much excess food I don't know what to do with it. I am unaccustomed to leftovers. Jezzie is helping out she's not a great eater and she is a fussy one so her sudden interest in leftovers is unusual, I suspect its her way of helping me when I stand looking at the waste and howling for the loss of a greedy boy.
Such a silly thing to grieve over, stupid to be reminded of Ollie every time I see a half eaten cat or dogs meal. I actually stand looking at them and wondering what the hell to do with them as if it matters and as if I didn't know.
Grief is a funny thing its gone and then the silliest most unimportant thing brings it rushing back and there's four half eaten cat and dog meals in the kitchen and a whole pot of whatever it was I cooked and know I won't finish.
Its not the immediate deep wrenching loss of death, oh no, its longer, harder leaping at you in unexpected ways and at unexpected times. It may seem as though you no sooner think you're 'over it' than something long dormant springs to mind and therefore life and you're left stunned with immediate loss and pain as if the disaster, tragedy, break up, death had just that moment happened.
Disobedient eyes well up with the tears you thought you'd shed enough but suddenly and without warning you find you hadn't.
Last Thursday Ollie died and what the hell he's a dog and a dogs a dog, right? No People who think like that couldn't be more wrong and maybe are unfit to ever have animals in their lives.
Whatever.
Mostly I'm already accustomed to his passing. He is gone I walk to his grave a dozen times a day I talk to him and Herself and I'm over it. I am.
Until I look at the food. I know, have always known I cook too much for any one meal it probably stems from being part of a largish family and maybe there's a hint of my own greed involved but it never mattered Ollie took care of the excess food situation and if truth be told I probably, almost certainly, cooked some extra just for him. I never cooked one slice of bacon, I rarely eat as much as a whole slice but Ollie would be at my feet doing his half starved act.
Since Thursday I've had so much excess food I don't know what to do with it. I am unaccustomed to leftovers. Jezzie is helping out she's not a great eater and she is a fussy one so her sudden interest in leftovers is unusual, I suspect its her way of helping me when I stand looking at the waste and howling for the loss of a greedy boy.
Such a silly thing to grieve over, stupid to be reminded of Ollie every time I see a half eaten cat or dogs meal. I actually stand looking at them and wondering what the hell to do with them as if it matters and as if I didn't know.
Grief is a funny thing its gone and then the silliest most unimportant thing brings it rushing back and there's four half eaten cat and dog meals in the kitchen and a whole pot of whatever it was I cooked and know I won't finish.
No comments:
Post a Comment