Monday 8 July 2013

Life Goes On, Sort Of....

And so it is nearly 3 weeks since we lost our beloved Nutty and I am still crying every day. He has left such a big hole in my life that I often feel despair that nothing will ever fill it.

As the days go by, there are short moments when I am not aware of my grief, when I'm running to the post office or jumping on a bus, but my sadness is always with me, like a big black blanket, draped over my chest. While I do enjoy being by myself, it's when I'm alone that I feel saddest. And yet there is nothing anyone can say or do that makes anything better. It's like all the colour has drained from my life and it's hard to feel very happy about anything.

I cried in bed last night, just thinking about the lovely boy. Oh how we miss him. I cried because I miss him so much and I cried because crying is a connection with his memory. And I cried some more because when I am no longer crying about him I think a connection with him will be lost. Mad I know, I know that I am connected to him whether I am happy or sad.

S is very sad too but he deals with it better. He is more practical and matter of fact. Logically I know that none of us can live forever, it's just that I feel I could have coped better with losing anyone else but Nutty. It is quite simply the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I can't believe I have got to 50 before I was truly bereaved. If anyone else in my family had died it would have upset me less.

I have a lot of people I like a lot, but very few people I love. Maybe just S, perhaps Teflon-dad and eco-brother. If I had children I would experience that unconditional love, but now Nutty is gone, I don't unconditionally love anyone.

I read constantly about grief and am fascinated about how people deal with it. Really there is a great well of despair out there and the world can be divided into those that have lost and those who have not. sometimes people will say, `oh my grandparents have died so I have been bereaved', but most of the time, there are exceptions I know, losing an elderly relative is sad, but usually comes with a degree of acceptance.

Reading back the entry I wrote just after Nutty died, I can't believe that I wrote I felt a degree of relief that he was out of pain. That was very selfless of me, but to be honest, I don't feel remotely relieved. Of course he couldn't have gone on the way he was, but his decline had been so sudden, I just wish we hadn't taken him with us to Yorkshire (the car journey weakened him). But I must accept it was his time. The vet said that he would have died some time as the cancer had weakened him so.

President Ikeda writes;

The impermanence of life is inescapable. In Buddhism, this is a fundamental premise about the nature of existence. Why should death come as a shock? From the standpoint of life's eternity, it could be said that birth and death are occurrences of minuscule significance. That is all well and good in theory, but the human heart cannot fully come to terms with such events through theory alone.
 
It's so true. I understand the theory with my mind but not with my heart. Yet, I mustn't be maudlin. The pain will fade and happiness will come. I will make something good come from this sadness.