Tuesday 18 June 2013

Nutty Soldiers On

Despite his increasing weakness, Nutty is still alive, just.

Even though he can barely walk or stand his little heart beats as fervently as ever. It's a kind of miracle that despite his feebleness his life force is still ticking away. Just.

As usual I am unable to contain my emotion and tears spurt out randomly. I am walking down the street, congratulating myself on buying food and keeping the cupboards stocked and suddenly find myself capsized into grief.

Stumbling down the Kings Road my eyes are so full of tears I can't see the faces of the passers by. I get on the bus and I am isolated in my grief. I wonder if I am the only person on the bus whose heart is as heavy as lead, just about to lose the person they love more than anyone in the world and dreading the next day when they will never see that beloved face ever again.

Very soon, possibly tomorrow, I will never see his face or hold his little furry body again. It seems impossible.

The rest of the world whirrs away in it's busy happy bubble but those of us disabled by loss stagger through the day, putting one foot in front of the other and wondering if they will ever be happy again.

And yet there are glimmers of hope. I am going to organise a Grief Workshop, for want of a better title, a sort of get together of random friends and friends of friends who are bereaved, or who have been bereaved and lived to fight another day. We will discuss the worst times, how long it took before we started to feel better and strategies for getting through the worst times. Of course most of us will be Buddhists but hopefully there will be all sorts of people there.

I know there is a way out of the tunnel of darkness because I have witnessed friends endure the worst, worst of times and come through smiling.

Yesterday when Boyfriend on a Short Fuse was being particularly foul, I day-dreamed about taking the train up to Yorkshire with a handful of Ambien and Valium and making my way to the beautiful river I so enjoyed swimming in last weekend (the last weekend when Nutty was well). I would take the handful of pills and then wade out to the middle of the river, where it is very deep and the current fast and free-flowing, (so powerful that it was hard work for me, a strong swimmer to swim in). I'd never be able to fight it if I was drugged, and if I lay, face down and let it carry me off, that would probably be the end of it. That would be the cleanest end I think.

But that was yesterday. Today I feel much stronger. The girls came round this morning and we put together the booklet for our weekend course. Boyfriend on a Short Fuse was much kinder, oddly enough after I told him I was going to spend the summer in St Ives without him. He spend all afternoon unblocking the u bend in the bathroom. I was so grateful. Think he was a bit put out by that. I've had quite a bit of support which is buoying me up. I simply have to keep going so I can help others who are going through the same thing.

Tonight we trundled Nutty to the park in his pram and lay him down on the grass. He tottered about for a bit, but didn't manage to pee so I worry that his kidneys have given up. Boyfriend on a Short Fuse was crying, tears streaming down his face. I was so moved. I have never seen him cry. He remembered the happy times he had with Nutty at Longdown, the wonderful long walks they went on alone together, and how they discovered Guildford together.

Nutty has touched a very special place in both our hearts and we will never forget him.

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