Trying to Heal

This I know: there is nothing as lonely as grief. ~Abby Geni, American writer

Friends, it’s hard to grieve.

No one quite knows what to do

To make your pain ease.

 

Everybody has

Different techniques for coping.

Some work and some don’t.

 

Cry and remember.

Find things you enjoy doing.

Let Time bring you peace.

 

Nature can soothe you,

Wrap you in her majesty,

Wash away your tears.

20 thoughts on “Trying to Heal

  1. Debbie, I think no two people grieve the same way. I also think that sometimes we feel we should be over something (no longer grieving) at a particular time, when in fact, we’re all different. Grief is a lot like the movement of the ocean. I comes in waves–ebbing and flowing.

    Know that you are in my thoughts, my friend.

    Take care and stay well. X

    • Thanks so much, Ron, for understanding. “Waves” is a very good way to put it. On some occasions, I find I’m doing alright, only to realize that Dallas really is gone, and that starts the tears all over again! I hope y’all aren’t too tired of my talking about it, but as a writer, I find I have to use my creativity as an outlet. I promise I won’t keep blubbering forever! {{{ YOU }}}

  2. Think about this — when we cut a finger with a knife or pull a muscle, healing always happens. But it happens quietly, and on its own schedule. No matter how many times we look at that cut finger and say, “Heal, darn it!”, we can’t hurry the process along. Granted, we can do a few things to help it, like putting on a bandage, or some antibiotic cream, but that’s it. It’s harder to find a bandage for grief, but it’s somewhat comforting to consider that as time passes, that wound is healing, too.

    • A very apt analogy, Linda. When you have a cut or a broken bone, however, your wound is there for all the world to see. And when it finally heals and you get the bandage/splint/cast off, everybody knows and can rejoice with you. Those inner wounds — like a broken heart — are harder to see, so people who see you smiling through your tears often think you’re doing just fine (when that might be far from the truth). Just knowing that healing eventually will arrive makes me anticipate tomorrow, and that kind of hope is a very good thing!

  3. Like the waves against the shore, grief ebbs and flows. Like the waves grief lets us know there was an experience and a life worth remembering. Time allows us to focus on the best of that life. I hope time turns your grief away from the pain and more to the memories. Hugs.

    • “A life worth remembering.” Yes, John, that’s exactly right — thank you! And you know, as time goes on, I find I’m able to remember so many wonderful things. I have a sneaking suspicion though that real healing will come about only if and when I find a new pup to love!! Thank you for your understanding.

      • I think you are right about the pup. When my silky terrior, Coco passed, I didn’t think I could love another but then came Twiggy. I stll have fond memories of Coco, but I don’t think of her and want to cry. Well maybe sometimes I do. But Twiggy is good medicine.

        • Twiggy looks like she’d be good medicine! And getting one as a pup means you get to enjoy all the puppy antics (like teething!) while training them how to be a good family member. I’m sorry about Coco. I had to look silky terrier up on the AKC website — they’re cute!

  4. I grieve for Dallas. But I take comfort in knowing she had a wonderful life with you, because of you. That so many dogs are neglected, go hungry, have no shelter but you found Dallas to love and care for. You did all you could to shelter and protect her. God bless you and Dallas. She was a good, content dog in every sense of the word.

    • Monica, I thank you for reading and for grieving with me. You’re so right — Dallas was loved and well cared for. Every time I’d take a load of stuff to our animal shelter for the “poor dogs,” he’d look at me with a question … like he was wondering what are poor dogs?? Guess he got used to the lap of luxury! (And, um, you realize that Dallas was a “he,” right? — yes, he was almost too pretty to be a boy dog, but that’s what he was!!)

      • Duh, of course. I don’t think I was fully awake when I responded. I’m actually in the market for a new dog and have been looking at female dogs. In fact, I’m about to go see one now. So anyway, yes, I did know Dallas was male but there you go. There’s no accounting for old age!

        • HaHa, not old, my friend. Just still muddling through this pandemic craziness while trying to sort out your own grief. A new puppy? You lucky lady — do introduce us all when you get her settled in, okay?!

  5. I think the uncertainty and the constraints of these days makes grieving even more intense. There are fewer ways to distract ourselves…and we are internalizing everything more, and are more on our own. I’m so sorry you are having to go through this so much more alone than you might have been. Hugs.

    • Dawn, I feel you’ve hit the nail on its head! Yes, this is an especially lonely time — we’re all distancing and self-isolating to the point where we turn into ourselves way more, and that can be just as dangerous as getting outside and taking a chance on getting the virus. If I had my sweet pup to hug on, at least I’d have a funny, furry distraction. Give Katie a big hug for me!

  6. Deb….your loss will be with you for some time because Dallas was your friend, comforter and companion for a long time. I know you need him now more than ever. I’m going through an extreme trial from 2019-2020 with no end in sight. The virus thing has extened my situation. The thing that has helped me and my husband, has been doing our videos to help others through this pandemic. I’ve been doing comedy with my puppet also.

    This has really helped us. I’m crocheting blankets for people who are ill. I’m trying to use some of my blogs to use to hopefully write a book. It really helps to keep the brain active with positive things.

    You have many blog friends that care about you. I can’t see you to give you a hug, but I hope you can feel this virtual hug. ((Hugs)) XOXO God bless you and give you all the love and peace you need today and everyday.

    • Thank you so very much, Tanya — yes, I can feel that virtual hug, and I appreciate it! You’re very wise to stay busy, occupying your mind with positive things right now. If we don’t keep our minds and hands busy, we become too available for bad thoughts and feelings to enter in. I’m trying hard to be thankful every day. After all, we do have plenty of things to be grateful for — we have running water, food, electricity, the Internet, and Spring on its way. We also have God who is working out all things in His own time. It won’t be the type of Easter we’re used to, but perhaps when this pandemic is over, we’ll learn from it and not take so many good things for granted.

      • “we’ll learn from it” I hope we do…like after 9/11. I do feel some people are being kinder and helping others out more.

        I think all these tragedy’s have done that over the years. In the past weeks when I go out people are saying things like “stay safe”. What a different world we will have after this is over for sure.

  7. Ah, Debbie, there’s no answer to grief except time, and it’s impossible to know how much time. I’m sure all the general anxiety of life at the moment will be making it even harder for you, since many of the things you could be doing to try to take your mind off your loss aren’t possible. Thinking of you. 🙂

    • Thanks so much for your good wishes, FF. I don’t suppose there’s anybody in the world who hasn’t experienced loss of some kind, but none of us can tell any of the others how to handle it. Time, I’m sure, will help — these virus-y times don’t, ha!

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