AJ and a LATTE

My Joy has faded away. She was born on September 6 in Andrews.  We adopted her after I lost my Dottie Dog on October 6. We adopted her on October 15.  She lived a short but busy little life and passed away this morning on December 15.  Two fur babies in less than two and a half months.  I am devastated.  The vet said it was probably a congenital birth defect, but she was gone in less than 12 hours.  And now I have to go get her from the emergency vet.  The drive to pick up my lost little Joy…

The beauty and sweet naivety of Christmas is shattered when grief is present.  The lights are still beautiful through the haze of the dropping tears, but the shine just highlights the emptiness that is felt. The only way to heal is to ride the wave of the grief and allow that dark thread to be woven into one’s tapestry, but the holidays seem especially hard to cope with the pain of loss.  When everyone is busy with the hustle and bustle of the season, having time with family and friends, shopping and spending, laughing and treasuring, grief feels like a chasm of that joy. In a room full of people there is a feeling of loneliness.  In the busy-ness, grief stands still.  In the laughter, grief is silent.  In the colors, scents, and sensations, grief is numb.  

Everyone who has truly lived has experienced the deep sense of emptiness during the holidays.  The mask is worn to try to hide the hurt, but it is there.  The pain isn’t dulled by the beauty and the joy of the season. If anything it is exacerbated during this time. The need to put on airs in order to not taint others’  joy is excruciating. The tears fall, but the void is unfilled.  No amount of tinsel can cover the cavernous hole left by loss. Yes, mine is a fur baby. Others are experiencing loss of babies, parents, jobs, stability, dreams…  But loss is loss.  Everyone’s loss is personal and very real. Grief is personal. Grief is hard. 

As we travel through this holiday season, I will have a smile on  my face, but two big pieces of my heart are missing.  Be gentle to those who seem to be distracted this season.  If you see tears, they are probably a mixture of memories and void.  Love them big. They probably need some mercy and grace.

Today my heart is broken.  I will go on. It will be okay.  Tomorrow I will face a thousand little questions about my little Joy and I will have to assure my little elves that she is happily playing on the rainbow bridge.  But on the inside, I will weep. Oh to have my little Joy just a bit longer. Now I let the healing begin. Part of healing is pain. Pain is the catalyst of grief. May this road be gentle to my soul.

Until next time…