A wise woman once told me that with every grief we bring up all the old ones, the pieces that are still left unhealed, and we move forward. Eventually we are able to walk away from them … finally leaving it behind us. She was a retired head nurse from the Palliative Care Hospital in London, Parkwood.
There are gems in our movement through places rich with old pleasures and painful goodbyes, you are changed forever. I am changed forever. I feel now I can look back and smile, rather than with anger or shame, sadness or regret.
I felt a bit of the spirit of the time (the good times) while I was writing the recent series of posts from my old journals. It was inspiring. Strange how one can find one’s own writing inspiring. I guess though it’s because that is a place far far away now. I am no longer lost in helium spheres. I had forgotten so much of it.
So much of myself I left at Mackay. The dog featured in those series of post related to Paul was Mogan David (after the cheap wine). She was big and simple. Slobbery and sweet. However she was R’s through and through. She was often referred to as “puppy head”…due to her big floppy ears. She was part Rottweiler and part German Shepard. R also scored Wolfy, the big fluffy gray feline that thought he was a dog. Wolfy and Mogan actually played together. Really. My other two were no fun at all since they were almost 10 years old at the time.
Out on a limb
dangling wet with fear.
Cutting to the chase,
I open myself to rejection.
Yet it is the only way.
To languish in uncertainties
my path opaque & murky
my meaning clear.
Endings and beginnings lead the way.
Dangling out on a limb — like the Fool from a Tarot deck. That’s another thing I did back than, read tarot. I laid a reading out for R actually the night he told Genevieve it was him she saw in the bathroom window. The whole reading is laid out like a roadmap to the time. Right down to the tower card, of course at the last. I don’t read them often — I just don’t feel the need to now. The deck I used back than is long gone. They are merely a tool, and I have other means – instinct, soul.
That is the one thing I can not forget this time. No excuses. Even with the recent “truths” out of the mouths of siblings, I will not be deterred by the garbage left behind by others. And let me tell you…do I have MY work cut out for me going forward. Whooossh…all cloths to be bagged and tagged for the dump. Yes, should be right jovial next few days doing that.
Must make sure I have uplifting music, inspiring jazz or funky blues. CBC Radio 2 often has some fabulous music programs throughout the week.
Oh, and of course we can not forget my ongoing dueling projects of finding a job and an apartment. Equally stressful and fun, in their own ways. Stress might as well accompany the grief, fear, excitement and come on…I’m sure I’ll think of more later.
I’m going to be bopping round to this I do believe
Don’t want to end up a cartoon
In a cartoon graveyard
Dogs in the moonlight
Far away my well-lit door
Mr. Beerbelly Beerbelly
Get these mutts away from me
You know I don’t find this stuff amusing anymore
Paul Simon ‘You can call me Al’