Grief

Grief is tricky. We lost one of our puppies due to illness a few months ago and it was only a week or so ago that the thought occurred to me that I was coming out of my grief. I was in the park running along with the little girl and it struck me that I felt a lot less sad. I still think of him constantly, mind you, especially in the park where he took it upon himself to be my protector, but I was out there a bit more regularly. It felt good to be back on track with life.

Over the weekend, we had a few days away in the country; a blessed relief from the fast whirl of life. Then, immediately back to expectations, responsibilities and a fast pace of life; the wild and woolly run up to the end of the year.

It didn't pass me by that I began the first day of the final term of the school year agitated. Little things. I didn't actually realize that my anxiety was evident until someone close to me pointed it out. There was perhaps a moment of defensiveness and then I saw it like he saw it: ANXIETY! DANGER! DANGER!

Registering it for what it was I took the necessary steps to aid myself and felt better. Got through Tuesday all right in the end. Wednesday, I did something that brings me pleasure but the self-esteem was down. It troubled me that I still wasn't on top of it. Why? No idea. I simply rode it out as best I could. It would pass soon.

Wednesday afternoon, I knew that something was wrong but I couldn't exactly put my finger on it. Thursday morning and it was clear that my son's anxiety was through the roof. He wasn't getting ready for school in the usual way and we sat there in his room and talked.

Was it about the English essay overdue? Maybe I could sit and talk him through it? No. No. It wasn't that, he said. He knew how to do them, he said. Got one back yesterday and got a very high score. He could have done it last night but he was too upset to do so. He'd talked with friends on the Internet about his feelings but it hadn't helped. He didn't know what it was.

Okay, I said, I'm going to hug you. He wrapped his arms around me as if holding on for dear life. The tears came in great sheets of grief.

"It''s B", he sobbed, "I miss him so much. "He was the best dog in the world."

"Grief has it's own logic, darling. I know. Just let it out."

I suggested he go back to sleep and he asked for the little girl to be with him. Soon he'll wake, shower, eat the breakfast I cook him and we'll be back on track.

There is an end to the stages of grief and we all, in our own good time, end up in the final stage: acceptance. There are good days and bad days and ultimately we accept and drive on. Such is life.