Just a Monday

Dear WEb,
It is just a Monday...and I have felt so sad again. Again I am struck by moment after moment of disbelief that Phoenix is gone, that something this terrible has truly happened. In the shower, my sobbing almost took me to my knees. If I'd given into the collapse, I may not have gotten up to ready for work. We've past the 6 month mark and have moved into the next half of the Wheel turning for this first cycle since Phoenix was shot. I can hardly still believe it. And it slips farther and farther away from the present day and I keep reaching, reaching for Phoenix.

The holy day that is coming up is Samhain. This is the day those who have come before us are honored. It is a day of grieving the losses of the year. I have spent 6 months in this energy of Samhain and still I feel there is more grief, the same grief, deeper or not. Grief.

Allison Kraus sings a song that I played over and over and over this morning. The lyrics that still ring in my mind are: "The smile on your face let's me know that you need me. There's a truth in your eyes saying that you'll never leave me. The touch of your hand (paw) says you'll catch me if ever I fall..."

I am falling, Phoenix. Again.
Melissa

Beetle and Mommy

Dear WEb,
If you look closely in the top left corner of the large photo of Phoenix that is beneath the title of this WEb Log, you will meet Beetle. She will be 10 years old on December 7th also known widely as Pearl Harbor Day. Beetle is fierce in her sometimes aggressive behavior towards other dogs, though she is getting better as she ages. She has been struggling for four years now with digestive absorption issues, so she is thinner than most dogs and stronger, actually. Being part Plott Hound (the state dog of NC who was bred to hunt bear) and Lab, she has intensity that is unmatched by many dogs I've known. She takes most everything very seriously!! Between the two of them, Phoenix most definitely had the sense of humor!

The other day in the car, Beetle spoke to me. I know, I know, there are those of you who think that is crazy projection. It might be. And...sometimes it just feels so real. Here's what she said quite matter of factly, "Mommy, do you wish it was me instead?" I knew immediately what she meant--do I wish she was killed instead of Phoenix? I immediately responded with what I thought she or any surviving sibling what want to hear, "No! Of course not..." As I began to babble on, I stopped myself--or maybe she stopped me, in my tracks. Tears welled in my eyes and I spoke the truth to this brave girl: "Phoenix was my Guardian. You and I have a different relationship. So, yes, I wonder why it wasn't you. But we never have a choice about these things." Bravely, she continued: "I can be your Guardian." And bravely I continued, "We are getting to know one another again. Let's see who we are."

Whew! I am so touched by the direct honesty of that exchange.

Since we have moved and Beetle has settled more into her place as "only dog," she and I have had some interactions that are new. We've sat together by the pond, laid in the grass together in the warm sunshine and walked our daily rounds. I've noticed how our calmness can feed one another--when I hear her sigh, I find my own breath deepening and vice versa. We have established routines in our morning walks that make me smile. She has grown to respond with eye contact when I say, "Look at Mommy." This is very important when I notice she's beginning to tense up around another dog or some uncomfortable situation. And, just tonight, I met a sweet Being in her as I planted bulbs on Phoenix grave site.

I sat at the site for a while. Beetle stayed in her fenced in area, even though she could have been free. I cried and talked to Phoenix for a while and Beetle watched. When it was time to begin, Beetle followed me to the shed to get my tools for raking and clearing the old growth. She happily followed me back and sniffed around the area. After I raked and cleared, she found some chestnuts and began to snack. I laughed at her and she wagged her tail, delighted that she was making me laugh. As I dug each of those 50 3"-4" deep holes, she began to get interested in the smells coming up from them. I wonder if she was smelling Phoenix and I envied her ability to be so close to him that way. She was very curious for a while and then...then she settled and laid down, just outside the rocks that marked the border of the grave. And she watched. She watched me place a bulb in each hole. She watched as I planted 50 promises and prayers for Phoenix. Beetle watched. Calmly. With intent.
When I finished, she followed me inside. Our work was done. For Phoenix. And for one another.

What is unusual is not once did Beetle wander off, which she is prone to do with such a strong nose. And, she did not pester me to throw something so she could fetch it. She was WITH me each step of the way. A companion. And I honor her as such. Relating is not easy for her. She doesn't really like to hug, definitely doesn't like to snuggle--it's not in her genes as a hound. I recognize that now. So, when there are moments of intimacy like this experience in the garden, Phoenix's garden, they are worthy of respect.

Thank you, dear Beetle, for surviving with me.
I do love you.
Mommy

Remembering and Loosening

Dear Phoenix on the WEb,
I wish I could write the entirety of what's happening inside me recently. Somehow words just don't seem efficient. Images...not even really there either. It's a felt sense inside me. A felt sense of something loosening. Let me try to language some approximation....

I walked the labyrinth the other day and connected with the season that has passed/is passing, the season of walking that same labyrinth seemingly everyday these last six months. I could feel the essence of that same walk underneath my feet and around me as I walked this time through the leaves that have dropped and beneath the sunlight that comes from lower in the sky. I could 'hear' the echoing tears of such deep despair of a woman who was/is me: a wandering, grieving me following the only path I could in front of me, guided by these stones, round and round, in and out and back in, winding me outside logic. I remembered a large white dog come to meet me in the winding path and walk beside me for a while, a companion. I remembered to touch the rock who calls me everytime I pass her, a large heart shaped rock that both of my hands fit comfortably on. My hands always smile at the warmth she's stored and shares. I have become this labyrinth and She, me. We have wound ourselves around one another these last six months. She calls to me, I call to Her. This loosens my heart.

I look at photos of Phoenix and I also feel a loosening...it's a sense of living on...not leaving behind or forgetting...but living on in Memory of. Because I have been so vigilant with this walk these last six months, I don't feel like I am leaving Phoenix behind or forgetting. We've walked this path every step of the way together. I have fought for these last six months to be exactly that way. And now...I am still together with Phoenix (he's let me know he's still here, just last night--two times when I called) and...the loosening has to do with maybe...something like acceptance? Not necessarily acceptance that Phoenix is no longer in the physical...that is still very tender...and it's not acceptance that everything is hunky dorry now, you know the 'it's all good' toxic brainwash that infuses every outrageous event. No, the acceptance is something like...accepting that I am still alive with a life to live. A sister sat across from me some time ago and spoke about 'letting go of the life I would have had'. She was speaking about a tremendous loss she survived. The phrase zinged me like an arrow because it cut to the heart of where I definitely was NOT and thought I'd never be. Maybe now, though, that is some of what I am experiencing as a loosening.

I still cry like I did six months ago, wailing at the incomprehension of it all, of the violence, of everything that was taken. I still am not sure what to do with my anger towards the injustice. I still pray for Justice and wonder if I am a coward for not taking it somehow into my own hands. I still go back to that night on the bench, Phoenix in my lap, the wolves howling at my back and me, changed forever through time, forwards and backwards...knowing I will never be the same. And, you know, all of that going back and staying true to everything about it in it's entirety, keeps me from forgetting.

Amnesia is a double edged sword...it can numb one from excruciating pain so that she can go on...and it can also be a fog that masks Reality, the ability to remember what is True. Here's a perfect recent example. My parents came to visit us in our new home recently. While they were here I invited my mother to walk the labyrinth with me. As we walked, she behind me, I could feel my mom's ordinary, unimpressed energy toward this extraordinary place. I felt myself go there too, telling myself this really isn't that big of a deal, this labyrinth. It's just stones placed in a pattern leading you nowhere special. I couldn't feel anything special at all about walking this thing. Then on the way out, I noticed that heart rock who made me smile and remembered a gesture I would do each time. I didn't do it then, with my mom, but I remembered it and felt more connected to my deep experience with this labyrinth. My point is that amnesia started to insidiously creep in. I started to forget and couldn't access what I Knew and have Known these last 6 months. When I look at Phoenix photos, I feel that slight fog sometimes--like a veil between the photo and I--like I am looking at someone who is just an image. It takes devotion not to let that happen. And I think allowing myself all of my feelings, as intense as some of them still are, is an important part of this devotion of Remembering. With the devotion, I remember who I am now...in this Present moment, with all of the Life and Death behind me and beside me. This Remembering is important/vital to me. When I begin to forget...I begin to numb out...or maybe it's the other way around. At any rate, all of this Remembering plays into this loosening I am experiencing now. Blessed be!

Finally, C. a dear sister came over a week or so ago and we raked the chestnut seed pods from the paths of the labyrinth--they are so spiky and not friendly to my feet. It felt like a dear thing to do for Her too. It was something I wanted to give back to Her, this labyrinth. Twas the least I could do.

Gently loosened,
Melissa