Grief is a Trickster

Here’s the thing about grief. It’s always lying in wait. Just below the surface, waiting for a quiet moment. When the house is dark, the music stops, the kids are asleep…grief creeps in and sweeps over you.

The moments between sleep and wakefulness are some of the worst. Regardless of the content of your dreams (assuming it wasn’t the reality of your grief), there’s a brief moment as you’re waking — before you’re fully awake — when you’re unaware of your grief. A brief moment of forgotten heartache and loss. Then the memory flashes in your now-awake mind and the grief crashes over you.

Yep, grief is a tricky thing. One moment you’re enjoying your favorite show, playing with the kids, making dinner – and in an instant the loss comes flying in, screaming at you for your few stolen moments of peace.

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I keep catching what I think are glimpses of Jack in my peripheral vision – mostly through the kitchen windows, where my subconscious registers him walking by in the yard or on the deck before my thinking brain reminds me that he’s gone.

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His food and bed are still here; we aren’t quite sure how and when to part with these elements that fed and comforted him while he was with us.

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Ping-ponging through the stages of grief is exhausting. Whiplash. That’s how it feels sometimes — to go from perfectly fine one moment to a painful reminder and flood of tears the next. The passing of time has dulled the pain some, and the fullness of activities has filled the space initially reserved for mourning.

Time marches on and the new normal is pretty normal. But we still miss you, Jack. One of your final gifts to us is this: where we had grown somewhat lazy as pet parents, your passing has reminded us how important it is to cherish the moments with Teddy, taking better care of him and showing him lots of love and affection. May we continue to learn from your love and loyalty.

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