grief / joy

2017 November

Grief/Joy

Recently I reread a post to our now defunct travel blog, in which I memorialized Greyla, who had been our 'final' dog and also our travel companion. She left us in November 2014, eleven months after my Daddy died. Daddy was diagnosed with stage 4 non-small cell lung cancer in February 2013. We left Florida, and returned to Pittsburgh, in order to spend time with him. During our stay in the only campground open in winter in the Pittsburgh area, our then nearly 14 year old dog, began to present symptoms which lead to her having major surgery just a couple of weeks before her birthday. At the time, I told God that I could not handle losing both my Dad and my dog in the same year. 

Seemed like God decided otherwise. My Dad passed away in January, 2014. We had Greyla with us until November, 2014. Both gone in the same year, granted eleven months apart, but still… I supposed that God decided eleven months was enough space for healing. It really wasn’t.

All of this has resurfaced in the past couple of days. I have begun to revisit the cumulative grief, and to a lesser degree, the joy, that we experience when we open our hearts and allow ourselves to love.

The catalyst for the current examination of joy, and grief results from our current experience as foster parents to a lovely, sweet, gentle, 12 year old black Lab, named Coco.

Coco was taken to the Beaver County Humane Society by the son of her previous owner, with the request that she be euthanized. The shelter staff explained that they could not, in good conscience, euthanize her simply based on her age, but offered to take her into the shelter, and try to place her, if they would sign Coco over. 

Coco’s entrance into our lives and hearts came a couple of weeks later.

Ray and I often do cat transports for Beaver County Humane Society, and also happen to be friends with the veterinarian currently working at BCHS. Those two things worked together to effectively draw us into the world of fostering, which we had never even considered prior to August.

Before Coco came into our lives, I had been adamant that I was done as a dog parent. I had loved Blue, Jake, Baxter, Katie, and Greyla. I had cried tears of loss with each of them, but especially with Blue, and Jake, and Greyla. I had changed. I now appreciated having a clean house. I was so certain that dogs were part of my past, and not of my future, that we adopted a bonded pair of kitties. "Yes!" I declared,"Cats are so much easier than dogs." And I enumerated all the ways in which that was so. 

Yet, when we sat in the visitation room, at the shelter, in August, with Coco, she began to worm her way into my heart, stink and all! Jump ahead, from our initial meeting with Coco, on August 16, to the day we brought her home, on August 19, to how we have fallen in love with her, to very recently, when we became worried about her health. 

A few weeks ago I began to notice that Coco’s breath was getting very stinky. My concern was that she might be developing a renal issue, although her fluid intake and output remained consistent. Then last weekend, I noted that her water was tinged pink after she had been drinking. I tried to examine her mouth, using a flashlight, but couldn’t really notice anything wrong with any of her teeth, the roof of her mouth, or her gums. But then, I am not a veterinary medical professional. So, I contacted the one person I could access easily at the BCHS, via messenger on Facebook. She, in turn, contacted the medical person from the shelter. 

Then later, during business hours, I was at the shelter for a transport, and spoke with one of the technicians, who said that there would be no Vet available until Tuesday, since the shelter is closed for business on Sunday and Monday, and this was Saturday afternoon. I said that I understood, and that I would’ve texted the Vet personally, but really didn’t want to impinge  on our friendship, especially since it didn’t seem to be life threatening, and the amount of pinkness left behind in her water seemed to be lessening. Of course, her breath was still atrocious! But, it kind of was beginning to match her general metabolic stench, for which we have not yet found a cure.

Weird, huh? Coco is old, and stinky, but we love her! She is simply a sweet, gentle, amazingly non-reactive, dog. She is sweet with our kitties, and with our next door neighbor’s kitties, as well. When we are out walking, and dogs bark at her, she never reacts. She is the most "chill" dog we have ever known. She is very predictable in her day to day habits. She eats what we give her. She takes her medication, her supplements, and anything else we offer her, without any drama, or problem. She actually prefers when I place the paste-like probiotic she takes, in the palm of my hand, and allow her to lick it off, rather than placing it in a syringe and squirting it into her mouth. She never has attempted to get on any of the furniture, or the bed. She dislikes being too warm, and often opts to lay directly on the tile floor, instead of on the rug, or on her bed. She barks only when she is needful to go outside to pee or poop, and then it is generally one, sad, plaintive "wooof". She is simply, a good dog. And I love her! And, she loves me. She usually will follow me to whichever room I am in, and when I go into the bathroom, she stares at the shut door, until I once again emerge. 

So, grief and joy… currently the grief is because we will, in all probability, lose Coco sometime within the next 2-3 months. She has an infected, cancerous growth under her tongue. I can, today, type that without immediately being reduced to a sobbing mess. She is on antibiotics to try and get the infection under control. So far, her appetite is not affected, nor is her ability to chew. She does not exhibit signs of pain. So, the plan is to offer palliative care, observe and treat any pain development, or appetite issues, and help her to feel loved, cared for, and comfortable, until the end of her days. The joy currently comes from remembering how sad and forlorn she looked in the kennel at the shelter, and knowing that she has been happy here, with us. The joy comes from waking up in the middle of the night, and hearing her snoring on her bed, in the corner of our room. Joy comes from simple things, like taking her for walks around the neighborhood, watching her scarf up her kibble and bone broth, seeing her stroll to the kitchen after our walk, because she knows that’s where the treats are, and she knows that she gets a treat when we get home. Today, joy came from watching her catch 6 hulless popcorns in a row with missing. Joy comes from knowing that she has known love in our home. 

But, grief and joy come and go, and not always in balance.

Hearing the diagnosis on Tuesday afternoon was a gut punch! And it opened unexpected flood gates to past grief. But, I am blessed to have a good friend who offered support, and insight. I am also blessed to have a "pollyanna" husband, who even in the midst of this circumstance, which affects him too, was able to find good. It is a hard situation, but we have been through hard events before, and come through, so I have faith that we will ultimately be OK. 

In the meantime, we will walk our sweet old girl, brush her, give her treats and medicine, put bone broth on her food, cook her brown rice because she likes it, let her sleep where she wants, listen to the sound of her snoring, help her to live a happy, loved rest of her life, and be grateful that we brought her into our home, our lives and and our hearts!    

    

Matt's Legacy

As I was driving to work on the 24th of January, a song came on the radio. The lyric included, "...who will love me, for me? Not for what I have done or what I will become. Who will love me for me?..."  While some might say the answer is obviously God, I know others who would say, "No one." And there are those who would answer, "Parents", or "Family", or "Friends".  For me, the answer is definitely Christ. But, there was one friend who was a human example to me of the ability to love, in the way Jesus teaches us to love.

Since the following day was the 6th anniversary of Matt Smith's death in this world, my thoughts went to him and to how he lived. His is a legacy of example.

Matt Smith exemplified, to me and to most who came in contact with him, what the love of God sees in us and what we are capable of through that love. He was that rare person who truly exhibited the love of Christ. He made you aware of the way in which God loves each of us, unconditionally. When I met Matt, I met a man who loved the people he met by seeing them through the eyes of Christ. He loved, period. There was no pretense. This is not to say that he was more Christlike than most. Rather,he was a man, who had himself, been transformed by the love of Christ. Matt lived what he believed in a way that most of us do not. He allowed the love of Christ for him, to transform the way he looked at and loved those with whom he came in contact. I am grateful to have had his example. 

We all want to be loved for who we are. Those of us who profess faith in Christ believe that He loves us unconditionally. And while we believe that, it is not often that we see the fruit of that belief in our own lives or the lives of those around us. Too often we allow ourselves to be blinded to that love by our guilt or our expectations. We have trouble loving the way that Jesus does. He loves us. Period. There is no condition placed on His love. There is no expectation. We don't need to be something, or do something. He loves us for us. Or as the song says, "... love me for me, not for what I have done or what I will become.''  Our God loves us because we are His creation. And even though He knows our sin, He loves us. He came here, to the earth He created and lived among His creation, to show us how much He loved the people He created. He gave us the greatest example of how to love one another.

This made me think about the reason why Matt Smith is greatly missed by those who knew him. Matt's legacy was to show us our possibilities in Christ. Matt epitomized acceptance of people, regardless of their deeds or station in life.  We are all sinners saved by grace, Matt no more or less than any of the rest of us. But through his words, deeds and actions we saw the real potential of true Christ - followers to evoke change. Change, first, in themselves, in their families, in their communities and in the world at large. I thank God for Matt and the example he provided. And I pray that the love of God transforms my heart in a similar way. May each of us learn to love one another for no other reason than we are following the example laid out for us by Christ and hopefully by each of us who calls him or herself a follower of Christ. It may seem an impossibility, but we know it's not. We saw Matt do it.

Open Letter to My Daddy

December 2010

Dearest Daddy,

This is something I wish I had written long before now. But I'm letting you know now, so at least that is something good.

You have always been a great role model. You taught me so many things just by your actions through the years. Your attitude has always been encouraging, even in the times when you may not have realized it. You were always there. You never drank or swore. You made lots of things seem like fun. You were the person I always wanted to spend time with. You played games with us. You sang beautifully. You were a

great Daddy! You still are!

You were always the person who seemed in control of himself. Indeed, on those rare times when you would loose your temper, it seemed like an event, rather than some day-to-day occurrence. It always seemed to me that you must've taken each bit of anger and disappointment and stuffed it away inside. And when you

could hold no more, POW! you erupted. I can only remember two or three eruptions over my whole life, though. You taught me something about self control and anger management, though you probably didn't realize it.

I remember that we were poor, but also that it really didn't matter much. We never went hungry or lacked for a roof over our heads. I DO remember surplus food and you telling me that if I was really hungry, I would eat the surplus government pork. Since I don't remember eating it, I guess I never was REALLY

hungry.

I remember a time when our gas was turned off and it was early March. You made it seem like fun! I remember you letting us kids go under the dining room table as you draped blankets over it and warmed the air under the table with an electric space heater. It was an adventure and we had our very own warm 'tent'.

I remember that you often seemed to acquiesce to Mummy. Those times taught me the need for compromise. I remember that you sat with me all night when I was in terrible pain because of my teeth. I remember that you came to all my graduation ceremonies. I remember that you loved music. I remember playing games and cards as a family. I remember a time when a drunken relative made a hurtful comment to me and you came immediately to my defense. I remember us playing records and singing. I remember that family was important to you. I remember fun times.

I remember once when the electricity was turned off and we got to use Pap-Pap's old railroad lanterns to light our way to the bathroom. Another adventure! It may have been stressful to you, but you never let on. You made the whole episode seem like a great fun escapade!

You taught me that all people are equal and deserving. You instilled in me a desire for a relationship with God. You showed me that it is important to be who you are and to speak your mind at times and to hold your tongue at other times. (this is a lesson I am STILL learning)

Through your example, I learned that even death is a part of life. You showed me how to grieve and still survive, even when the lose is painful.

You aren't perfect, but you're close enough!

I know that through the years I have been a brat, an incorrigible, a trial and a pain in both your heart and your butt. I am sorry for the times when I caused you pain. I know that you have always been on my side even when I acted like you weren't. I am sorry for the times when I was thoughtless. I am sorry for causing you shame and for being so headstrong and stubborn.

Most of all, thank you for always allowing this prodigal to return to your family.

I love you, Daddy and I always will.

Your oldest "pain in the ass" *

JeanMarie

* a direct quote from you, regarding children & parenting. :-)

Off To School

As you may know, I care for two little munchkins three days per week.  The older child, Nicky, is  nearly 3.5 years old and I have been one of his caregivers since he was six months.  He is not the first child I have cared for over the span of my life, but I dare say he is one of the most challenging. He is also the one that I have grown to love in a way I never anticipated. 

Last year he attended a preschool program at the local Jewish Community Center two mornings weekly for two and a half hours. In the beginning, he was less than happy about going. He adjusted pretty quickly, though and was sad when his parents decided not to sign him up for another year, at the beginning of the summer. I was glad to have him home with me and his baby sister all summer. Although, I knew that the plan was to enroll him in some other program in September.

There was some anxiety on the part of some the adults (Mom, Nana, me)  that Nicky would react badly to the "new" school, since he has spent a good bit of time talking about Judy and Naomi, from his previous school.

Last week, he started his new preschool. It's a three day per week program at a local church for 4 hours each day. He even has to bring a lunch. 

So it was that on his third day of school, last week, I stood in the doorway as he walked off with his Mom, to get in her car and be dropped at school.  He kissed me good bye and trotted off like he'd been doing this for years, instead of DAYS!  As he climbed into his car seat and his Mom was buckling him in, he very nonchalantly waved to me.  I lost it!  I immediately teared up and excused myself from the activities, mentioning to his Mom that I had to go inside because I was going to cry. She said, "You're worse than me!"

He just seemed to have grown up overnight!  And I'm crying now as I type this. it doesn't seem that long ago that I held him on my chest and rocked him in the afternoons so that he would sleep longer than thirty minutes.

At one PM his sister and I were waiting in the hall at the school to pick him up.  As he left the classroom and saw us, he ran to me and threw his arms around my legs with abandon and said, quite loudly, "JeanMarie! You came!!!"  I almost cried again.