30 days since she left

It’s been a month. Today I decided to “close” the WhatsApp group where I started updating my family and some friends about Frida. The group started on February 10th, when a “mass” was discovered.  I have been reading again the chat, the conversations, seeing the pictures, the video, it’s like reading a diary. My thoughts, feelings, the support, the love, everything is there.  I have been crying, not for Frida, but for me. I realized how much I suffered through this entire process, how much I cared for Frida, all the things we did for her. I feel so proud of every single thing I did, and I would do it all over again.  Constantly there’s a mention of how loving she was in return, of how docile, how grateful she seemed all along the way, even during the worst moments.  I know that Frida, Mark and I were a match made in Heaven: we couldn’t have asked for a better dog and she couldn’t have asked for a better home.  Frida was a fantastic dog, but she had many health issues since a young age. If she had had another temperament it would have been a miserable journey. She always needed care, and it was easy to take care of her. And well…. worry is my middle name, so I was always there to detect whatever was going on. If Frida had lived with little or no attention, she wouldn’t have lived 6 years. She would have died of that anaphylactic shock she suffered after a wasp stung her when she was 1 year old.

I’m so grateful for having had her in my life. Her death has left me with a new experience, with so many life lessons. Despite the sadness of not having her around anymore, I feel my heart so full of love.  Little by little tears give more room to a sweet smile that comes to my face when I think about my furry girl.  My grieving journey hasn’t been a stormy one. I have given myself time to cry, to laugh, to meditate and pray. I have given myself the chance to find joy in short runs, in colouring a book, in baking and trying new recipes. Little things that give me so much joy and make me feel at peace.

 

Finding joy and peace

I have re-read a wonderful book called “Dejame llorar” /”Let me cry” by Anjie Carmelo (I don’t think there’s an English version of her book, and saddly no re-prints of it either) and there is a part where she talks about “redefining death”, and basically she points out that if we can get rid of the fear that surrounds death and conquer that fear, it actually becomes one more tool to go through life in a better way and feeling more complete.  She also mentions how dying is not a failure or end, but rising to a new, less limited reality.  And finally when we realize that death is not an enemy, but the means that will lead us to be closer to our beloved, departed ones , we can actually visualize it as a friend.  I guess I was kind of feeling these things some time ago, because this is a drawing I made last August.

My drawing in August, not fighting a lost battle, but trying to let her go with love.

I came to terms with the idea of letting Frida go when the time came, rather than fighting a fight that I was not going to win. However, it’s never easy. It’s not easy to let go the ones we love.

And after all, we had a beautiful, Christmas, surrounded by our love for

Her favourite toys

each other, family and friends. Our Faith has helped us so much along the way. It’s not about understanding, it’s about trusting.  Today I still feel the empty spot she left in the house. Her mat and her favourite toys are under the Christmas tree, and a candle lights her little memorial. In time these things will be gone, but Frida’s presence is in the most important place:  In my heart, where her loving soul left a print that will last forever.

 

“There is no death, daughter. People die only when we forget them,’ my mother explained shortly before she left me. ‘If you can remember me, I will be with you always.”~ Isabel Allende, Eva Luna.

Picking green beans and crying

I spent an ambiguous weekend.  I was feeling happy, I was feeling sad.  I was doing OK, and I was not. On Sunday our good friends Doug and Chris invited us to their “garden”. They have a community garden plot where they grow vegetables. Every year we go and help them to harvest. Honestly, they do all the hard work, but we enjoy the agricultural experience and have a nice time with them.  Dogs are not allowed in the community garden (for a very good reason!) so Frida stayed at home.

Picking potatoes, cutting some cilantro. I was on my knees picking some green beans, Mark was close to me. Suddenly I felt I like if the water of a dam was being released. I just told Mark, “I’m going to cry” (my poor husband, at least I wanted to give him some warning) And there, kneeling on the ground, in the middle of the beans, the cilantro and zucchini, I cried and cried. I just felt Mark’s hands on my back. That’s all I needed. Someone by my side letting me cry. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t say the terrible “Don’t cry”. He just sat there and waited. I don’t know if it was a long or short time. It just felt so good.  But kneeling was uncomfortable, so I sat down on the ground, covered my face with my hands and kept on crying. From a distance I heard Doug’s voice asking how the green beans picking  was doing, but he quickly realized what was happening. He said “It’s OK Vero” and gave us space. I kept on crying.  And it felt great.  Mark later told me that I truly looked like a little girl crying, he was so touched. When I was ready I composed myself, and after having watered the crops with my tears, we left with a bag of potatoes, cilantro, zucchini and green beans!

The rest of the day I felt tired, we went home and had a quiet evening. Frida barked so much all the evening. At every noise. She was getting on my nerves, but we felt bad putting her in her kennel, and I didn’t have any strength to be controlling her barking. Later when I went to bed I felt the need of reading a book that I have had for a long time. A friend of mine gave it to me after my mom and brother passed away (“Dejame llorar”, by Anji Carmelo). And reading in bed, everything started to make sense: My tears of sadness, my irritability, my anger, my emotional fragility, the feeling of loneliness, feeling needy, but at the same time not wanting people around.  I’m grieving.  It’s called anticipatory grieving.  And it’s OK.

I won’t stop making everyday count. I will enjoy my time with Frida.  We still have plans for the rest of the summer and God willing we will see the beginning of the fall together. But it seems that I have already started my grieving process. I don’t know if that will help me at the end, but I’m embracing it.  I’m healthy, I’m exercising, today I nailed a 10K run. I’m excited about keeping in shape and conquering new distances. I have some ideas boiling in my mind about my job, and I want to explore them. I want to spend time with Mark.  And I love Frida more than ever. I cherish every moment, every little thing we do together.

It’s OK to grieve. I know some people feel uncomfortable around tears and anger.  I know for some people it’s totally incomprehensible to feel like this for “a dog”.  For others it’s not what God wants from you, or it’s a matter of lack of strength. I have been here before. But this time I’m doing things different. Because now I know a little bit more than some years ago. Some things might be similar, others will be totally new.  We’ll see how’s the experience like this time. The only thing I know for sure is that from this I will learn, and I will be stronger and hopefully a better person.

And Frida?  Today, she’s doing fine. She’s happy and feeling well. I cannot ask for more.

“Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve.” ~Dr. Earl A. Grollman