Not Crazy — Just Grieving

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.  ~Kahlil Gibran, Lebanese-American writer and poet

Fuzzy thinking, decisions must wait,
Novel on hold, can’t concentrate.
Don’t want to design or even to write,
I tell you, my friends, I’m really a sight.

Time creeps along slowly, day becomes night,
I see no way to get rid of my plight.
Temper flares, angry words spill out.
I know I’m a mess and that’s without doubt.

Aching heart and buckets of tears.
‘Is this her new life?’ everyone fears.
No, I’m not crazy, just suffering through grief,
Not forever, I hope, but probably not brief.

No wonder they say that grieving is rough,
But sorrows convince you you’re really quite tough.

Find things you enjoy and take your sweet time
To mourn the departed, perhaps with a rhyme.
Get back into life with things you like best.
Count the blessings with which you’ve been blessed.

Time heals all wounds, or so my dad said,
Tears can be healing, after they’re shed.
Be kind to yourself when all’s said and done.
Recall pleasant memories with that special one.

Lean on family and friends for a while.
Before you know it, you’ll find you can smile.
Can once again get enjoyment from life,
Find hope and happiness after the strife.

Everyone knows that grieving is rough,
But surviving shows you’re really quite tough!

Note: I’m hanging in, my friends. Thanks for your concern and prayers. For those who don’t know, I had to have my beloved Sheltie Dallas put down last week. I miss him every day.

13 thoughts on “Not Crazy — Just Grieving

  1. When it comes to events like this, a week is nothing. A month is nothing. Even now, there are certain times when I’ll feel the pain of losing Dixie Rose, and it’s been years. The last time it happened, I walked past the wheat grass in the grocery store, thought that I should bring her some fresh grass, and then remembered. At such times, I don’t fall apart, and tears don’t necessarily well up, but there’s a pang. It’s only a reminder of how much she meant to me, and that’s all to the good. Cherish those moments of grief for what they represent: a loving relationship!

    • Thanks, Linda. I can feel myself healing over time. Every mention or thought of Dallas no longer opens the flood-gates of tears, and that’s progress. Sure, I still miss him — always will, I imagine — but I don’t feel as raw, as broken. I feel grateful for having had him in my life for 13 years, and I can envision a day when I’ll get a new pup to love. Not immediately, of course, but one day!

  2. Debbie, you take as long as is needed to grieve. One thing I learned about the grieving process it that you can’t anticipate it or control it. It progresses in its own way and its own timing. I found that grieving is a journey.

    Allow yourself to just “be” how you feel, whatever it is.

    And know that we support you, dear friend.

    X

    • Ron, thank you for you kind words … and your support. This poem came to me when I was thinking about how devastated I was at the beginning of this “journey,” and how far I’ve come. I still cry over missing Dallas, but it’s not the uncontrolled wailing of a few days ago. It’s more like just knowing I’ll never see him again here on earth, and feeling so sad about that. I do believe you’re right, that grieving is a journey, with lots of emotions along the way. And none of those emotions are ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ — they simply ‘are.’ xo

  3. That’s one of my favorite quotes you have at the top, and your verse is beautiful too. Grief hits you when you expect it, and it hits you when you least expect it. Right now I’m sure it’s pretty much every moment of every day. Sending you virtual hugs.

    • Thanks you, Dawn. As a writer, I process emotions through my words. I promise I won’t forever dump all this mourning on my friends, but for right now, it helps me sort through things. It’s amazing how quiet the house is without Dallas — and he wasn’t a noisy dog! I’d gotten so used to his routine — when to go outside, when to feed, when to play, etc. — that I find myself with great gaping holes in my days. I imagine things eventually will creep in to fill them. At least I’m concentrating more on the happy memories we shared, rather than obsessing over his last few days. And I’m also toying with the thought of eventually getting another pup to fixate on!

  4. Lovely poem, Debbie. It takes time and there’s no rulebook about how much time. I still miss my previous cats from time to time, even after many years. But now when I think about them I remember the things I loved about them and it’s a happy memory rather than a sad one. The only advice I’d give is don’t feel rushed into getting a new pup – I got T&T too soon after my beloved Soxy died, and it took me a long time to bond with them properly because they weren’t her, if you know what I mean.

    • I *do* know what you mean, FF, and I very much agree. Getting a new pup won’t bring my Dallas back, and, while some folks believe that’s the best “medicine” for a grieving heart, it’s just not in me right now. Maybe one day. ‘Soxy’ is such a cute name for a cat!

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