I love the smell of grief in the morning

[cleolinda]

I had my first dream about Lucky. Just before I woke up this morning, I dreamed I went downstairs and he was waiting on the kitchen floor by the back door, smile-panting at me, and I had a strip of bacon in my hand, and I ate half of it because I didn't think the whole strip would be good for him, and I was half aware that I was dreaming and I thought, if I can get him to eat this bacon, he can stay. (I wasn't thinking this part in the dream per se, but in a lot of myths and folktales, there's the motif of the person who has to stay in an otherworld after eating something--Persephone in Hades, people who go off with the fairies, and so on.) And I leaned down to give him the bacon and he turned into Sam, who was more than happy to take it from me.

I'm to the point where I keep just sitting and staring at some place he ought to be, usually some spot on the floor in my room, and imagining him being there, remembering what it was like to pet him, like there's a place in my head where I can still be with him. I believe this is what people refer to as "living in the past." I don't seem to be in control of this kind of reverie at the moment, but this is why I'm hoping I'm well enough to go see The Black Dahlia tonight, because if nothing else it will fill the empty place in my head for a few hours.

As for crying, I thought I was getting to where I was okay, and then I was in the bathtub and I realized that, if I go to a movie tonight, he won't be waiting for me when I come home. My parents would go to bed and turn off all the lights downstairs except for the porch, and I'd come in and he'd be waiting at the top of the stairs, listening for me, and he'd come thumping down the stairs with a single low "Ruuuhf!," like he had to say something ("And just where have you been?") but he knew he was supposed to be quiet. And I'd put my keys and my purse down and pet him at the bottom of the stairs in the dark and he'd wag his tail so hard. Generally he barked some--not half as much as the poms--and a lick was a very special occasion, but Lord Almighty was he a wagger. So I ended up crying in the bathtub, hoping my sister and her boyfriend wouldn't hear me in the next room.

I'm kind of at the why-God-why stage now. I understand how he died, medically, but I can't bring myself to understand why--why now, why so soon, why such a sweet dog. There is no why, of course--depending on your philosophical leanings, there either is no why, period, or there's no why because we're not allowed to see inside the mind of God. You could say that because of what happened this week, our lives will drift into some subtly different direction than they would have otherwise--the butterfly effect, if you will. I tend to subscribe to that view because I'm a writer, and I tend to view God as a cosmic writer. Everything has some kind of effect or consequence or correlation; we're just not able or allowed to see the big picture now, if ever. I mean, I can say now that my father walking out on us was a watershed event in my life that actually heralded better things; it was probably the best thing that ever happened to my mother, in its own way. Later, I went through a major depression pretty much the entire year of 2001, where I nearly flunked out my last semester of college and didn't apply to grad school for another whole year, but the things I did during that time, the friendships that began, are still with me today. I didn't apply to the big creative writing programs--partly because I was scared, and partly because I dreaded the idea of professors trying to break me of my style and trying to remake me in their own images; I had already had a bad experience with a visiting professor from a top program, and while it was irrational of me to spin that one encounter out into What a Big Program Will Totally Be Like, I think it helped me say, this is how I write and what I write, and I want to write that better. I don't want to write Very Serious, Literary Examinations of the Human Condition in Which Nothing Actually Happens, and I'm tired of writing poetry that has to be buried in arcane symbolism for it to be considered any good. In the program where I ended up, here in-state, they actually liked Black Ribbon and were supportive of it, even though it was verging on genre (which Literary Types Do Not Like). And so I was scared and stubborn and evasive, and for my troubles, I... got a book deal. Not for my fiction, but for movie parodies I sure as hell wouldn't have been writing if I'd gone to Iowa. And at the same time, I'd lie awake sometimes and wonder what I was missing out on. If nothing else, the friends I would have made that I now wasn't going to. I made new friends anyway--just different friends. I kept wondering what it would have been like if I'd sacked up and made a different decision, and then every now and then something would happen and I'd say, I made the right decision after all. I'm on the right road. I don't know where I'm going, but I know it's the right way. But there's more than one crossroads, you know. I feel now like I chose the right way at that point, even though it seemed wrong at the time, but now I lie awake and wonder if there's other turns I've missed since. But it is something I have picked up from my mother, when something goes wrong, to ask, what is God trying to tell me? Sometimes I feel like I can't move forward, like something's pressing me down--it's depression but at the same time, I swear to you, almost every time it happens and I miss out on something, I find out later that missing out on that first thing meant that I was around to catch something better. I think of it as the hand of God pulling you back--of course you sit there and worry that maybe this time you just really are being depressed or irrational or scared, and it's not God at all; maybe it's just your way of rationalizing bad choices. But I keep looking back and thinking, "Thank God I didn't do that," which is what leads me to think that some kind of providence held me back for something better.

So I keep trying to think of Lucky in terms of that. I was so attached to him--probably too attached to him--that him being gone will allow me to move on and basically become a functioning, independent adult. It'll allow me to finally leave the nest. And God must have said (I thought to myself), he was a good dog, and you loved each other, so I'll take him as peacefully as I can. I was in bed with that fever just before it happened; he was sleeping on the floor beside my bed. He always had to be near me. I keep staring at that spot. But--and maybe I'm entering something of a bargaining stage here--I keep asking why he had to go now. Even if the Lamictal helps me pull my shit together and start becoming a real adult, it'll be a while before I can afford to move out. Maybe a year, maybe two. He could have stayed here with us until then. And then you come back around to the idea that it wasn't your fault, it was just "his time" to go regardless of what was going on with you--there was no why. And I'm not sure I like that explanation any better.

Comments

[honorh.livejournal.com]

The last paragraph really resonated with me. I, too, am in the process of getting healthy, and am hoping I can be independent soon.

Again, I'm so sorry about Lucky. It's all very well and good to be philosophical, but what it comes down to is that you miss him. I hope you find your answers soon.

[wendywoowho.livejournal.com]

Oh, hon. This will sound a little strange, but here goes:

Thank you for sharing your grief with us.

[edda.livejournal.com]

I don't know what to say, except that I hope you're doing OK and that you can email me anytime. This was a very thoughtful examination of the whole situation and while I'm not happy you're having hard times right now, I found it very absorbing.

(On a slightly off-topic note, fuck Famous Visiting Twathead And His Amazing Powers Of Academic Asshattery. I don't think I've heard this story, but he's makin' my chainsaw finger itch.)

[edda.livejournal.com]

Also? *hugs*

[bigeyedrabbit.livejournal.com]

For various reasons, that "What is God trying to tell me?" paragraph was exactly what I needed to read on this very morning to keep my own sanity on-track. Won't bore you with the details, but wanted to let you know your philosophical ramblings were actually quite helpful today. ;)

And again, I'm so sorry about your doggie.

[cleolinda.livejournal.com]

Aww, thanks. And I'm glad I could help. I just find it helpful to think about ways previous things have paid off unexpectedly, in terms of coming to grips with the idea that things may be happening now that are setting the stage for something we can't see at the moment. Because it sucks, the waiting part.

[derangeddarling.livejournal.com]

"partly because I was scared, and partly because I dreaded the idea of professors trying to break me of my style and trying to remake me in their own images... this is how I write and what I write, and I want to write that better. I don't want to write Very Serious, Literary Examinations of the Human Condition in Which Nothing Actually Happens, and I'm tired of writing poetry that has to be buried in arcane symbolism for it to be considered any good.... genre (which Literary Types Do Not Like). And so I was scared and stubborn and evasive..."

OK. YES. This is so important to me! This is how I feel right now about my Fiction Writing class. Every thing the professor says (in class and in his book on writing we have to read, yuck) is completely contrary to the way I write. And he's like "we will not be writing genre fiction, no sci-fi, or fantasy, or mysteries..." And I feel like, I don't want to be moulded into his way of writing, isnt it uniqueness and originality that would get me published, not writing like this guy and everyone else in the class? And what's wrong with genres? I love fanatsy!

See, I want to be a writer and an editor. A fiction book writer and editor (as opposed to magazine or newspaper.) Right now I'm a sophomore at a university in Chicago and I am unhappy there, largely because they don't have a writing program (I'm declared as a journalism major and english minor because that's what Dad thought would be best, he's a technical/corporate writer) and admittedly a little because it's so far away (I'm from Michigan.) While they do offer an English degree with a "creative writing concentration," I am not satisfied. I want to transfer to a [in-state] school that offers a writing major, but it isn't as prestigious as the school I currently attend so Dad isn't cooperating. I am also trying to think ahead about what will be best for Grad school.

When you are less stressed and feeling better, do you think I could talk to you (via email or a messenger or whatever is easiest for you) about what kind of schooling you did? My dad wants me to get 'professional opinions' before I do anything drastic. And I would really value your advice.

(sorry this is so long and rambly and sort of off topic.)

[cleolinda.livejournal.com]

No problem. Email me at cleolinda at livejournal.com.

As for the first part, the thing you have to do is learn to speak a second language, basically--learn to write the way they want you to write, in a way that you can turn off when you write the way *you* want to write, rather than let them take over your process entirely. I'm not saying you should resist a professor entirely; no matter how or what you write, you can always stand to learn more. Don't resist improvement; resist arbitrary personality change.

[bluekermit.livejournal.com]

A theory for you:

We are here for a reason, or many reasons, and many missions. And we go when we have achieved them. Not in a reincarnation kind of way (though I believe we can reincarnate, and not just if it's decided, but also if we want), but... my own personal theory is that we are here to learn love and to teach love.

There are parts of your reasoning (and feeling? probably not yet?) where you half touch this. I'd like to offer you this view of mine, and have your thoughts on... not how Lucky being here helped you become a "functioning" adult, but on the love. It looks evident, he was such a companion, and how he helped you through your parents' divorce... but I'd like to offer you this, if I may.

I'm obviously very biased by my own religion (I'm a Catholic, European), and the fundamental concept of Love, more than God's Plan (and sometimes I fear I drift away from the Church in some of my New Age ideas, but I have my own way of integrating it :p ). I believe very much that we, as souls, doesn't matter if we're human or pets, have a saying in our world, and in more ways than just the idea of Free Will (or maybe it can all be encompassed in the concept of Free Will, only maybe my concept of it is different - an evolution of paradigms?).

What do you say?

[particle-person.livejournal.com]

There is no why, of course--depending on your philosophical leanings, there either is no why, period, or there's no why because we're not allowed to see inside the mind of God. You could say that because of what happened this week, our lives will drift into some subtly different direction than they would have otherwise--the butterfly effect, if you will.

There are in-between possibilities too—you can assume God's existence, but perhaps he just put natural laws in place and walked away to do other things. In other words, even if you looked in God's mind, he'd be thinking about other stuff. I don't believe in an "active" God, meaning one who guides every little thing, so I tend toward the view that if he exists, then he's not particularly concerned with individuals. So, again, no real Why, I guess. I just wish I could answer the question for you, if it would make you feel better. *hugs*

I'm with you part way on the butterfly effect as a metaphor. The thing about the butterfly effect that doesn't get emphasized by non-technical people is that it takes place in the context of a deterministic system (i.e. a system that always follows cause-and-effect, without random influences). The idea is that even inside a perfectly deterministic system, a very small change in the beginning can become a huge change in the final result. When technical people talk about "chaos" or "chaos theory," they're not talking about random systems at all, just ones that are very very sensitive to the starting point. In an ordinary chaotic system, there isn't any free will or random influences. Two people who are born in opposite beds will lead completely different lives, but identical twins would be pretty much the same person according to chaos theory.

The thing is, I don't believe the butterfly effect is the whole story. (I think astrologists might, by the way-- they're so very concerned about the starting point.) I think there's free will and randomness in the system too, so not only can you never predict things because of not knowing the exact starting point, but you also can't predict because of random outside influences and the choices we make.

[cleolinda.livejournal.com]

From the God-as-writer view, I tend to look at it the way I look at writing a story: I almost always know how it's going to start and how it's going to end. It's the stuff in between that's a bit up in the air. I know what *has* to happen, generally speaking, to arrive at that endpoint, but as characters grow and change in my mind, I end up going in slightly different directions. With a bit of stretching, you could probably work a free-will metaphor into that.

[everstar3.livejournal.com]

I take this approach most of the time -- thinking that knowing what will happen is not the same as watching it happen. Like, you can never read Jane Austen on the theory that you know everybody's going to get married off, but then you never get to see Lizzie being snarky or Mr Collins being fatuous and so forth.

[particle-person.livejournal.com]

I confess that I sometimes read the ends of mysteries first, just to get the suspense over with so I can pay attention to the characters and how they got there. It can be more fun to read with advance knowledge, so that when character X smiles that crooked smile I know it's because he knows who stuck it to poor dead Harry. That's also what makes re-reading so much fun.

[hourlily.livejournal.com]

That's a great comparison.

[caffienerain.livejournal.com]

I'm so so sorry. I know how you feel (and I know you've heard this a million times), because I lost my loved doggy back in 2000, and I'd had her since I was four. What writers tend to do is obsess over things (not necessarily a bad thing, and hey, maybe obsess is a very strong word for this situation) until we can get over it. At least you didn't go journalist mode (block all of your human feelings and try to figure out what went wrong/why) instead.

My thoughts are with you.

[emerybored.livejournal.com]

Your last paragraph is my life, having just lost my kitty, Shadow, but with another four psychotropic medications on top of the Lamictal.

Remember that it's not only good for you to cry, but NECESSARY for you to as part of the grief process (believe me... my therapist has been pushing me on this point).

Take care.

[ladyvoldything.livejournal.com]

About the being too attached to him thing, being able to leave the nest- you're totally spot-on. My cat is kind of like that for me- at one point, about a year or two ago, I was limiting my search for colleges to colleges that allow pets in the dorms. I've moved past that now, but I don't know how I'll deal without my Missy. Coincidentally, the lifespan of the average house cat is about from the time when we first got him (I was 7) to when I'll graduate college. Missy will have been strictly a childhood pet, allowing me to leave home and be able to live in some little craphole apartment that probably wouldn't allow pets anyway, without the expense of litter, food, and allergy medicine (for me).

But still.... *hugs*

[sorchar.livejournal.com]

*hugs tight* My best friend has been dead for the better part of ten years and I still dream he's alive. It does get easier.

[artemis-archer.livejournal.com]

My dog Fletcher passed away last summer and yet I still open the fridge door carefully because I don't want to knock over the waterbowl that was once behind it. And when my parents moved a table over the place where his bed had been, I threw a fit. It's hard adjusting to the absence of a beloved pet. Our family ended up buying this stone slab which is engraved with paw prints and a few words about him. We have it in our backyard at one of his favorite spots. Somehow it gives me a way to kind of channel my grief, as lame as that may sound. It's kind of like when you go to a cemetary to visit a grave. You find yourself there and let all the emotions pour out but when you walk away you need to leave that grief behind you. Whenever I feel especially sad about him I just go outside to that spot.

I know it will be some time before you're ready for something like that but I just wanted to suggest it because it's something that helped me so maybe it could help you too. I hope you feel better. Lucky was a very fortunate dog to have had owners that loved him so much.

[fishsanwitt]

Sending ::hugs::

[everstar3.livejournal.com]

It might be too soon to make Lucky's death fit into any sort of pattern, but I know what you mean. My mother's cat had a heart murmur that we were treating her for in a desultory sort of way all last year, but in November, we found out Mom had breast cancer. On the Monday of Thanksgiving week, Mom had the tumor removed, and on Wednesday we found out it was much more invasive than we had thought. And on that same Wednesday, we put her cat down because Molly was in renal failure, and she was dying. Since then, I've sort of believed that Molly volunteered in some way to go instead of Mom. I have no proof of this, and if you asked me if I really seriously believed it, I'd have to say no. Molly wasn't a young cat, and she'd been sick for a while. But... still.

There'll be a pattern. A good. Someday. But it might be too close yet. Hang in there.

[modpixie.livejournal.com]

aw man. i come into contact with so many dogs, and i know how they have the ability to touch people's lives. take care of you.

[jaded-skys.livejournal.com]

I know how attached I am to my cat (she's my baby) and she's been sick recently. It scared the crap out of me, and I don't know what I would have done if it had been something serious.

Be strong and feel better soon. ♥

[tifaria.livejournal.com]

I want you to know that the last two paragraphs have made me feel so much better. I've been dealing with some personal angst lately, and that sorta.. perked me up, at least for now.

I'm so sorry about Lucky. I don't have any answers, because I'm still trying to figure out just what I believe in, but I understand the grief of losing a pet. It doesn't even feel right calling them "pets", because they're more than that. I'm so, so sorry that this happened.

[derangeddarling.livejournal.com]

Sorry to be so post happy the last couple entries, but I wanted to draw your attention to this http://www.pulsejewelry.com/

These are jewelry pieces made and sold by the wife of my father's best friend, who has been struggling with Ovarian cancer for a few years now. She is finally gaining some support. She's been interviewed by Good Morning America's Robin Roberts, who also supports her by wearing some of her Pulse pieces on GMA.

In the mass email I got from her announcing the reoccurence of her cancer and trying to spread awareness about the cancer and her site said that 30% of her proceeds go to the Ovarian Cancer Research Fund (www.ocrf.org)

Unfortunately, I don't see that on the site. Some pieces say that all the proceeds from those pieces will go to ocrf, but I don't see anything that says how much of all her proceeds go.
I emailed her through the site and find out for sure. Any way, I thought maybe you and/or some of your readers might be interested.

[derangeddarling.livejournal.com]

I got a respnse, and yes, 30% of all proceeds go to ocrf, and the pieces where it actually says the proceeds go, 100% does.

[lylassandra.livejournal.com]

To paraphrase something very famous,

May the Great Cosmic Writer bless you, and keep you;
May he make his face shine to upon you, and be gracious to you;
May he turn his countenance to you and grant you peace.

=) No, really, I hope you feel better soon-- not that you'll ever forget, but that the pain will fade, and the love will not.

[terriem.livejournal.com]

I've been away from the internet for the past few days and just wanted to say how sorry I am about Lucky. I live miles away from my family and my dog and I know that if anything ever happened to him, I would be straight home, no matter what the cost. It worries me that I might not be there for him when he gets ill (he's quite old now), especially as he was my friend and there for me when a lot of rubbish was happening at home. I know how much a dog can mean and I'm so sorry for your loss.

I hope you get through this and please carrying on writing what you want to write, if it helps. I think you'll always have an audience, as you're so good at what you do.

[lyrainverse.livejournal.com]

I'm terrible at the online counseling/philosophy/profundity, so instead I present you with this (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSyEKvt9RV8), for when you're ready for a laugh. It's never failed me, I hope it works for you.

[pygmymetal.livejournal.com]

These things simply don't make sense. I still miss my first dog. :(

[hourlily.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry. As always, thanks for your well-written ramblings. ::hug::

[lotusbiosm.livejournal.com]

You know, I know you've been feeling kind of weird about sharing some of this with us, in that whole "do they really want to read about my grief about my dog?" kind of way. But you're such a gifted writer that you find ways to share it so that it reflects what grief is like- I smile at the picture of Lucky and the way you describe him, and then I feel for your sorrow at having lost someone you loved. And you have this clear voice that chronicles that emotion, and even this painful thing is evidence of your talent as a writer. Plus, you know, we don't just read your blog for your parodies and your linkspam, we read it because you are smart and clever and poignant and you're a real person. And real people are interesting.
I totally hear you on the "what is God trying to tell me?" thing. Sometimes I wish God would get a better messenger service. Because it's easy to ignore certain things, because you can rationalize the feeling away when the signs aren't clear.
If you feel like this is you "growing up", then maybe he had to go now so that you'd see that as your end goal, so you start doing what you need to do to get there, as opposed to not wanting to leave Lucky. Or maybe it was just his time. Or maybe it's a combination of factors and the ways of God are mysterious and all that jazz.
Anyway, I'm sorry for your loss (I haven't had a chance to say that yet). With time, hopefully the pain will subside and the good memories will remain. And know that there are hundreds of people out here sending you good thoughts.

[promise19.livejournal.com]

And you have this clear voice that chronicles that emotion, and even this painful thing is evidence of your talent as a writer. Plus, you know, we don't just read your blog for your parodies and your linkspam, we read it because you are smart and clever and poignant and you're a real person. And real people are interesting.

Exactly. Very well put.

[stefficus.livejournal.com]

i know this is belated, as i was behind on my f-list, but... i'm really sorry to hear about lucky. i, for one, don't think you're being silly at all. reading about it made ME cry. glad to hear you're doing better.