A river runs through it
FIRST::: DID ANYONE COPY THE LITTLE WORDSWORTH QUOTE I HAD AS MY 'STATUS' RECENTLY? DALE AND I ARE HOPING TO FIND IT AGAIN... SEEMS ELUSIVE! PLEASE SEND IT OVER IF YOU HAVE IT. THANK YOU SO MUCH!
FLASH!!! FOUND! (On my FB page in memory of Andy.) I'm putting it here for future reference.
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"I loved the boy with the utmost love of which my soul is capable, and he is taken from me...yet in the agony of my spirit in surrendering such a treasure, I feel a thousand times richer than if I had never possessed it." William Wordsworth, 1812
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Zooming into 2011. Very busy with work, family visits, church projects, the house, painting, and self-care (need more of that, always... sleep, food, exercise). I have lots of planning for projects and pleasures up ahead. It is all connected. It flows and swirls.
Case in point: I just had a meeting with a friend from church to plan a service in March and since she was here she asked me about my dogs... my two rescue pups Annabelle and Henry... she asked didn't I used to have more?... yes, and the story unfolded for her: I had a very VERY old husky-lab mutt named Eliza who died at almost 18 (I was ready for that) and then a few weeks later my darling baby Marley, a 12-year-old black&tan smooth dachshund, a beloved little jelly bean of a boy with shiny eyes and popcorn paws, suddenly had to be euthanized due to bladder stones. I couldn't put him through the pain and it was likely to happen again and again. I was shattered. I sobbed for days.
I wasn't able to have his sweet little body cremated (unthinkable) and I buried him under the apple tree in my backyard. I wept every time it rained, thinking of the cold and wet which he hated. He was ALL about cozy and warm and dry! Under the cubbers, he 'called' it. (LOL) One night when I was crying my brother Nick called up. I told him how upsetting it was for me to think of Marley out in the cold night... gulping and sobbing. Nick said, "Sarah... Sarah... you've forgotten something." "Wh-wh-what???" I hiccuped. "That's not Marley," he said. "Marley is not under the garden. Marley is in your heart. He's under the cubbers. He's running on the beach." "Oh... that's true... "
So I started to remember how much Marley loved all those things. And the memories of how much I loved HIM started filling me up. Now when I think about Marley, I still have a great big OH and I feel terrible about the suffering he endured. But I know I did everything a person could do for her little friend. And it doesn't hurt as much to talk about him.
Marley died in October 2007. Annabelle was the only dog left. Fast forward. I got Henry to keep Annabelle company, in August 2008. He was perfect. A goofy yellow mutt, or 'melange' as they're called in France... haha sounds better?! Fast forward. In January 2009 Andy was diagnosed with cancer. Fast forward. He died seventeen months later, in May 2010.
By the time he died, we were grateful for the peace of his death, his release from suffering. And I knew with my whole heart that his body, his poor tired earth-suit, was no longer 'Andy'. Andy was up up and away, UP HIGH, and everywhere. I miss Andy more than I can say (and as much as you miss your sons and daughters... you know how much) but I have not had the same kind of shock. I wonder whether the way that I did the work of grieving for Marley was clearing the pathways for pure channels of grief and love when Andy was diagnosed... the day I started to grieve... the day I heard the words Glioblastoma multiforme. By the time Andy's tumors overwhelmed his poor brain and shut down his organs and his respiratory center, 'he' was gone. The skinny little body in the bed was like a snakeskin or a snail's shell... cowbones on the desert... just the frame that HE inhabited for 27 years. I loved his body, yes, but I loved HIM much much more, and HE went first, before his earthsuit.
Grieving for Andy has obviously been many times bigger; you can't even compare the hole left behind by my son and the dog I adored. I don't know how to say this... grieving for Andy has been clearer and purer as a pathway. I knew what I was losing and I made sure to know it and feel it with every cell of my body. And as I had learned, as I watered the garden with my tears, that "that is not Marley" I was prepared to know -- no one needed to remind me this time -- "that is not Andy".
There are so many dear friends losing their lovers, mothers, brothers, children to cancer, every day. [Insert many names] ... We're all one family, really. People, dogs, cats... probably all the creatures. It's a flowing river of love and loss. We're all in it. We are the river.
FLASH!!! FOUND! (On my FB page in memory of Andy.) I'm putting it here for future reference.
==================================
"I loved the boy with the utmost love of which my soul is capable, and he is taken from me...yet in the agony of my spirit in surrendering such a treasure, I feel a thousand times richer than if I had never possessed it." William Wordsworth, 1812
===================================
Zooming into 2011. Very busy with work, family visits, church projects, the house, painting, and self-care (need more of that, always... sleep, food, exercise). I have lots of planning for projects and pleasures up ahead. It is all connected. It flows and swirls.
Case in point: I just had a meeting with a friend from church to plan a service in March and since she was here she asked me about my dogs... my two rescue pups Annabelle and Henry... she asked didn't I used to have more?... yes, and the story unfolded for her: I had a very VERY old husky-lab mutt named Eliza who died at almost 18 (I was ready for that) and then a few weeks later my darling baby Marley, a 12-year-old black&tan smooth dachshund, a beloved little jelly bean of a boy with shiny eyes and popcorn paws, suddenly had to be euthanized due to bladder stones. I couldn't put him through the pain and it was likely to happen again and again. I was shattered. I sobbed for days.
I wasn't able to have his sweet little body cremated (unthinkable) and I buried him under the apple tree in my backyard. I wept every time it rained, thinking of the cold and wet which he hated. He was ALL about cozy and warm and dry! Under the cubbers, he 'called' it. (LOL) One night when I was crying my brother Nick called up. I told him how upsetting it was for me to think of Marley out in the cold night... gulping and sobbing. Nick said, "Sarah... Sarah... you've forgotten something." "Wh-wh-what???" I hiccuped. "That's not Marley," he said. "Marley is not under the garden. Marley is in your heart. He's under the cubbers. He's running on the beach." "Oh... that's true... "
So I started to remember how much Marley loved all those things. And the memories of how much I loved HIM started filling me up. Now when I think about Marley, I still have a great big OH and I feel terrible about the suffering he endured. But I know I did everything a person could do for her little friend. And it doesn't hurt as much to talk about him.
Marley died in October 2007. Annabelle was the only dog left. Fast forward. I got Henry to keep Annabelle company, in August 2008. He was perfect. A goofy yellow mutt, or 'melange' as they're called in France... haha sounds better?! Fast forward. In January 2009 Andy was diagnosed with cancer. Fast forward. He died seventeen months later, in May 2010.
By the time he died, we were grateful for the peace of his death, his release from suffering. And I knew with my whole heart that his body, his poor tired earth-suit, was no longer 'Andy'. Andy was up up and away, UP HIGH, and everywhere. I miss Andy more than I can say (and as much as you miss your sons and daughters... you know how much) but I have not had the same kind of shock. I wonder whether the way that I did the work of grieving for Marley was clearing the pathways for pure channels of grief and love when Andy was diagnosed... the day I started to grieve... the day I heard the words Glioblastoma multiforme. By the time Andy's tumors overwhelmed his poor brain and shut down his organs and his respiratory center, 'he' was gone. The skinny little body in the bed was like a snakeskin or a snail's shell... cowbones on the desert... just the frame that HE inhabited for 27 years. I loved his body, yes, but I loved HIM much much more, and HE went first, before his earthsuit.
Grieving for Andy has obviously been many times bigger; you can't even compare the hole left behind by my son and the dog I adored. I don't know how to say this... grieving for Andy has been clearer and purer as a pathway. I knew what I was losing and I made sure to know it and feel it with every cell of my body. And as I had learned, as I watered the garden with my tears, that "that is not Marley" I was prepared to know -- no one needed to remind me this time -- "that is not Andy".
There are so many dear friends losing their lovers, mothers, brothers, children to cancer, every day. [Insert many names] ... We're all one family, really. People, dogs, cats... probably all the creatures. It's a flowing river of love and loss. We're all in it. We are the river.
Replies
TIs true. No one lives without loss. Our\'s is our\'s but, yes, it is a river. So sad to read about Marley! As I struggle for Twinkie\'s life to be extended. He is all I have left. No parents, no other children. When he goes as he will, I will once again feel the loss of an apendange.
So I guess I have to prepare. In my way, I am. But meanwhile he is has what calls \'covies\' and \'softies\'. I found a SILK comforter (I could almost swear it\'s silk!) in a thrift shop. Same color as he is. A soft gold. That\'s what he \'calls\' his softie! He still has cat duty. He still panhandles in the kitchen when someone is cooking. SO it\'s not time to say good bye yet.
Ooof our losses. Somehow I have to put some pluses in my life! I know it!
Love to you, Sarah,
Soosanah
btw My Mom had a raggamuffin dog named Annabelle!
Every word beautiful and oh so true. God always prepares us ahead of time for what is ahead. If we would pay more attention for what\'s going on in our lives at the present, eventually we would realize why it was by was is then happening. And I completely believe he prepares us for \"losing our earthly bodies\" before we do (in most cases), and it is as you say, Andy was up there watching it all happen. I have a friend who has passed on from cancer at the age of 49.....9 days notice, then she died. She had bad stomach pain, and when they checked her out, they found her full of cancer and told her to get her affairs in order pronto. She was actually my sister\'s best friend, but a friend of ours....the friend who could tune into those who have gone beyond, and many of them came t her, including my mother and grandmother. What I want to say right now is that she was in the midst of helping myself care of another friend of hers that was young and dying of cancer. It was Christmastime, and we were all pitching in to make food and buy gifts, for the lady who was dying was a foster mother with 13 children, most of them adopted by that time. Our friend was diving right in to prepare to be with my sister on Christmas Eve to take everything out to them and give them a wonderful Christmas. We baked hoards of cookies and other food and all kinds of gifts. It was all to be a surprise. Eight days before Christmas Sonya (our friend\'s name) was diagnosed and put into PGH hospital, never to come out. She died Christmas Day. My sister stayed with her all the time, helping her with her list of what she wanted done with everything. She was very calm. She knew a lot about the world she was going to and she wasn\'t afraid. Just sad for her friends. My sister went home on Christmas Eve, having been told Sonya had more time......and she and several others delivered everything to the other friend and her family, who were so pleased. When my sister got home, she was called my the hospital to get right back to PGH (she was Sonya\'s POA), that Sonya had taken a turn for the worse very suddenly. She put the pedal to the medal and got to PGH (50 miles). Sonya was in intensive care, but conscious. She held her and they laughed and cried through the night and part of Christmas Day. She died at 3:00 with my sister behind her bed with her arms wrapped around her, rocking her. But I tell you all this simply to say that Sonya\'s help with the other friend was God\'s preparation for what was about to happen to her. Some other day I will tell you what happened to the other friend the instant Sonya died. Such a huge loss for us, but such a huge gain for Heaven. She was incredible.
Becky
and oops! I do have my Rhode Island family! Spoke to my cousin today! She will put me in touch with another cousin here in CA who lost her son to an accident overdose (/). Sorry to take up too many boxes! AND to make it about me. Just got me thinking...
I do believe that each loss in some way does clear the pathways as you mentioned. Each one offers a new awareness, something learned, a sorrow, a blessing, an opportunity to take what was experienced previously and weave it into a new creation. In gratitude and love for new eyes in which to see. XO Joanie
http://www.completeclassics.com/william-wordsworth/poet-3067/
You will probably find it here.
Your analogy is spot on....I also think you are on to something about the way being prepared for you to experience Andy\'s illness and leaving. Although, I don\'t think we ever truly can be prepared even while watching the ravages of disease take its toll....somehow we have hope. I only speak from watching a friend and others who have had cancer...not my personal experience with Brandon....watching a child go through a devastating illness and pain is agony itself. A dear friend of mine who also succumbed to cancer 3 years ago had to watch her little 4 yr old go through brain surgery and chemo and radiation. She survived but it returned at the five year mark. They took her to St. Jude\'s for experimental chemo. I watched how my friend went through the misery of her child\'s misery and the not knowing.
Thank you for putting out the call for that quote! Maybe between everybody we will luck up! Love and forever hugs....
dale, brandon\'s mom
Big hugs and so much love, YOU inspire me. Prayers, Lynette ~ Matthews mom
Glad to be your \"on line\" friend. Wish I could remember the poem you seek. Loved your journal entry, such poetry. How we love our little pets, mine is a parti-poodle, toy, tall toy, or mini, black and white. Looks stuffed, just like a toy. Gone blind now and whimpers to be lifted up to the bed. Used to jump it. so sad to see them age so quickly......love ya, abby
Sarah. you reached inside of me with this one, yet again. but i am experiencing more and more intent stares at blinking cursors in trying to find my words, any words, that i may mutter sense into. for now, this is all i can string together ...
i love you.
de
Dearest Sarah, you have written so beautifully about the pain of it all. I too have a little graveyard out in the apple orchard where we buried our dog his past fall as well as a beloved cat (once feral) and some of Jon\'s ashes and possessions. The river. Yes. Wordsworth. Yes. Thank you so much for your wisdom and understanding. And your beautiful voice that speaks for us all.
Beautiful thoughts. They are free indeed and we miss them....
Andy is in your heart safe and warm
Hugs Penny
\"River, take me away...\" yes, all in the river of love and loss, beautifully said, thank you....and love to you....