June 2003 Archives

I wake at 6:45am. I linger in bed for twenty minutes before realizing that being horizontal has outlived its purpose. Getting vertical takes a bit of an effort but once standing things start to happen all by themselves. I make my way to the bathroom to take a good look at everything. I step on the scale. Woops. I have to stop eating whatever it is that I've been eating because things are headed in the wrong direction. Nothing like the bathroom scale to give you your first dose of reality. Hello!

There are a million morning thoughts going around in my mind. Yesterday I came to a red stoplight beside a car with a beautiful West Highland Terrier panting out the rear passenger window. This dog looked exactly like Willi. Our eyes locked for several seconds. The mind does strange things...there's my dog, that's where he went! What's he doing in someone else's car? Actually it's been two weeks since Willi died and his ashes must be ready to be picked up any day now.

More morning thoughts; I think of the time when we picked up my Father's ashes. I carried the urn containing his remains from the funeral home into the car and then from the car into the house. I don't think he weighed any more than fifteen pounds, urn included. Goodmorning! Soon I will be bringing Willi home. Naturally I wonder who will carry me home or if there will even be anyone left alive interested in doing so. Oh sweet mystery of life.

So increasingly more and more Six Feet Under by the minute, a new day begins.

I wake at just before 7am. I stay in bed while images of life dance around in my head. I linger in a state of mental hopscotch. One seemingly unrelated thought tap dances on top of the next. It also reminds me of the moment in which you have first taken a look at the cards you’ve been dealt, at first it’s all about sorting. These things go together… these things do not.

I get up and make some defullofnothingcaf, although this stuff is not entirely pure. Lately I’ve been making real coffee to help push out my brain lethargy and when I grind the coffee beans there is inevitably some freshly ground coffee left over, which I then toss merrily in with the decaf coffee to spice things up a bit.

The day outside my window is gloomy but thank God it’s Saturday. There are so many things around the house that I’ve neglected, so many things that need to be attended to. I will slowly start taking care of things again. I should not wallow in my grief, yet at the same time I can acknowledge that I am going through a process that has its own deep inner logic. I am doing my best to honor it, to stay present and conscious about what I need to do in order to heal the best I can from this loss.

I have come to a place of wider perspective; I finally know what the organizing principle of my life has always been and always will be. It’s really very simple…

Just to love
And to be loved in return

That’s the whole thing. The singing, the teaching, the writing, the relationships, the friendships, the dogs…it was always that simple…just to love, and be loved in return, everything else has just been smoke and mirrors. Here’s to the real thing.

And so a new day begins…

I wake up… what other options are there really? Stephen is already out of bed and watching the morning show.

Stephen, Sam and Willi during happier times.

Willi’s death has slowed me down yet cut things in half…life runs through the time/space projector in cut time, only two beats per bar instead of the average four. I am not in a hurry…despite the time signature changes. I used to be in a hurry. I think it could be depression, but for once I don’t see it as a pathological thing that needs to be pharmaceutically removed. I now just see it as Dorothy Parker coming for a visit, drunk as a skunk, but sharp as a tack. So what if I am on half speed, the universe is telling me slow down, who am I to say no we need to be up to tempo? How do I know what tempo is the right speed…I am not the composer?

My father’s voice says, “Slow down”. He should know, he’s the one with the overview.

As someone who has suffered from depression in the past I remember feeling like everything would just fall apart because I simply was not up to speed for what the world was demanding of me. Ya, like it all depends on me. Sometimes we have to say no to the world and the culture we find ourselves brainwashed and driven by. No, I am not up to what you say is “normal”, not today. Today I am up or down to something else. I am in grief, and I know it doesn’t fit in with your plans…with your time schedule. I am so sorry.

Thanks Cathy for the wonderful conversation we had last night. On the other side of fear is freedom. Ain’t it the truth…how did you get to be so wise, my goodness?

“There wasn’t nothin’ that French ventriloquist didn’t teach you”
(Margo Channing, All About Eve)

My inner voices are now attempting to interrupt me...

Don’t write this
You don’t know what you are talking about
No one wants to hear about this
Shouldn’t you be somewhere else?
Shouldn’t you be someone else?

No, I should not.

And so, I sneeze six times on my second cup of deforgodsakencaf. Of course I am allergic to this stuff...it’s as hollow and lacking in promise as an unsigned anonymous love letter…I mean really, that’s kids stuff. Of course perhaps it’s just spam…yes that’s what it was…spam. Delete.

And so, a new day begins…bursting forth with all sorts of peculiar yet irrefutable noodlings.

There’s no such word as noodlings Mark!

I know…that’s why I had to invent it.

You didn’t invent it…someone else must have thought of it first.

Of course, whatever you say.

I wake to an empty sound…my house.

Decaf
Turn the computer on
Write an email
Wonder what on earth I am doing with my life
Suffer waves of grief
Immersed in emptiness
Sneeze six times because I am allergic to something in the decaf
In desperate need of a haircut
Too lazy to cut my own hair
Time is running out
I used to write songs
But I hate new music
Shut up…go to work

And so a new day begins…if you like that sort of mess.

I wake at 4:45am. My subconscious is still worried about Willi and I guess it’s waking me up to check on him…only there is no Willi to check on. The house is still. There are no tiny footsteps down the corridor or the sound of Willi jumping from the bed onto the wooden floor, but my mind is now waking me up in anticipation of these sounds.

I toss and turn with a radio program from September 21, 1939 playing in my earphones, then suddenly I wake again…this time at 8:03am. I am exhausted, more exhausted than I have ever been in my entire life. Six months of erratic and interrupted sleep patterns can do strange things to a person.

Sam & Willi 1999. Reunited at last...

The sun continues it’s relentless upbeat…yesterday it was shining well into the night. These days it is easy to forget what time it is since it is practically always day.

I make coffee, the real stuff because that is what happens when you are under stress, you turn to things that will prop you up. All the things I stopped doing for a year and a half have found their way back into useful but potentially destructive positions. Soon it will be time to let go of the crutches again and start building on what is right and what is good.

And so a new day begins…wondering about what to do next, after all, Bob’s your uncle…whatever that means.

I wake at 7am on the dot. The sun streams into the bedroom from two windows. It is cheerful to the point of annoyance. I am mournful and drained and this cheerfulness is in my face like a wet blanket. I will have to adjust.

If there is one thing that comforts me right now it is the knowledge that I did everything possible to save Willi’s life and when all hope was gone, and I mean all hope, I was able to have my pet fall asleep in the comfort of his home, supported by the people who loved him and took care of him on a daily basis. I couldn’t have hoped for more in that regard.

Now we face this emptiness in our home which will eventually be filled in with parts of ourselves and others, but still it’s a transition. And then there are those moments when we have forgotten all about it and our denial catches us by surprise. Yesterday, at my mother’s house, as I approached her front door to drop off a pair of sun glasses, for a moment I expected Willi to greet me as he so often did when he stayed at my parents house. Funny how the mind plays tricks on us, how we don’t believe even though we know the facts.

The facts are grim.

Today is Monday, as good a day as any to make an effort at living a normal life again. I will go to work; I will catch up after two weeks of falling behind. I will remember the love that Willi brought into all our lives, and take that love with me as I go through the day. I will do my best to be gentle with myself and others during these strange and empty days. I know they won’t stay empty forever, and I can take comfort from the fact that Willi is finally safe from harm. As for the cheerful sunshine, I am going to have to start taking it in sooner or later.

And so a new day begins…

I wake… it is 6:30am. Sleep is finally becoming easier. I write, I write about Willi. I tell a bit of the story but then it becomes too long for me to finish. I will finish it later. The sobbing has stopped, and last night I watched videos of when Willi was just a few weeks old, and I laughed and cried and was filled with such a wondrous feeling; the realization that I have lived a wonderful life, that I had a wonderful family and friends, that I have loved as deeply as it is humanly possible to love, and that both my puppies are now happily playing together in heaven where I will one day be reunited with them.

Life, it seems would have no meaning without death, and at the age of 42, with my share of losses behind me and with more likely ahead of me, I can tell you this…life is beautiful when you have loved and been loved in return. And I also realized something else this morning…tears of joy and tears of sorrow are the same thing, they are the tears that flow when we are bursting with life.

And so a new day begins...and I am back and glad you stopped by.

Willi
February 9, 1996 – June 12, 2003

I shall see beauty
but none to match your living grace.
I shall hear music
but none as sweet as the droning song
with which you loved me.
I shall fill my days
But I shall not, cannot forget,
Sleep soft, dear sweet friend…

(Michael Joseph)

I love you Willi, we all love you…and will hold you in our hearts each living day until we are reunited in eternity.

And so a new day begins…with a broken and inconsolable heart overflowing with waves of sorrow with the passing of our beloved dog, Willi.

Dad, Sam, John, Kip and Wilson...I entrust him to you now, you are all lovingly in my thoughts this difficult morning.

Willi, my dearest puppy, run to them now...they are waiting for you with loving arms.