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just like that

liz lamoreux

 

this spot once held the beginnings of a steam-of-consciousness post. a post where i began to list in sentence form the reasons why the post would not be full of sparkles or something that would make you smile. how it would instead be full of truth and realness and sadness. there is so much i was going to say in that post.

but life kept interrupting. repeatedly. every few words. 

so in this moment, i come to this spot hours later and will say this instead:

millie, our other child who happens to be a golden retriever, almost died friday. just like that. the doctor was not sure she would survive the night. she then had emergency surgery saturday. and tonight, she is curled up beside jon's feet while he grades. just like that.

on friday afternoon, when ellie and i drove to the emergency vet clinic, a few minutes behind millie and jon, i explained why mama was crying. telling her that sometimes we cry when we are really afraid. explaining how mama loves millie very much and how she is my friend and how in my love for her, the thought of her dying made me scared and sad. and then i explained how millie has been my constant companion through some of the darkest days i have ever known. how she came into our lives in a very unexpected way and, just like that, she began to walk beside me through the deepest grief i have ever known; she began to walk beside us and taught us even more about love. i explained that this is what love is all about.

tonight, as i try to wrap my brain around having another patient who is healing in the house and now two notebooks full of feeding/medication schedules that sit side by side on the kitchen table, i find myself wishing upon wishing for a break from it all. wishing upon wishing for someone to walk through the front door and say, "i've got it right now girl. you can just rest for a while."

tonight as i type this, i take a break and turn to david whyte to try to remember the truth of what i know. his poem "the well of grief" does that for me. those words remind me of what i know about the truth of standing in this moment on my path. the truth of choosing to see all of it. the truth of living with my heart wide open.

tonight, i take a break for just a few minutes and turn up joshua radin as he sings into my ears and close my eyes and choose.

i choose.

i choose.