Thanksgiving

Dear WEb,
Above all, I am grateful for my Phoenix and the life that was us.
Blessed be on this day of giving Thanks to Her.
Me

Solay

Dear WEb,
I haven't processed the experience in its entirety, and I still wanted to acknowledge some of it. Today, a sister, C, rattled and 'held vigil' for me as I lay on the earth near that photo of the skeletons, a photo of Phoenix and some 'bones' that I've been keeping on my altar to honor Phoenix. As I lay there and dropped into that deep place of inconsolable grief, at some point I noticed a small spider creating a web that connected all of those pieces--the bones and the pictures to the blanket I was laying on. It was truly amazing to watch unfold right there, inches from my heaving grief. No lie.

Afterwards, C. had to leave, she left her dog, Solay (sorry that is not the correct spelling, but phonetically it is correct) with me. Solay has always been a dear to me--large red lab looking dog. C. told me one time he is part Rhodesian Ridge back. After the deep time on the earth, I wasn't ready to leave and knew I wanted the kind of non-verbal deep connection only dogs provide. So, Solay stayed there with me, sat with his back to me, leaned into me and I wrapped my arms, legs and hands around him and cried some more letting my whole body feel Solay's solid presence--his fur, his muscles and fat--the life in Solay. I wept for the life of Phoenix--his fur, his muscles, his fat, the softness of his ears, the solidity and assurance of his presence there always in front of me, watching, guarding, blocking, protecting. I held onto Solay like my life depended on it. I prayed he wouldn't leave, that I wasn't too intense for him. Solay did not leave. He let me hold on. Solay let me hold on.

It was the closest I feel I've been to Phoenix's body since that night holding him or that dream I had when he raced around the corner and fell into my arms. Goddess smiled on me today. I am deeply grateful to both C. and to Solay.

More about it later.
I am Loved,
Me

To The Bones

Dear WEb,

There is a skeletal (pun intended) Truth here in this photo, a Truth that captures all that I have been writing about these last 35 Fridays. We don't know the literal story behind this excavation from 12,000 years ago in Northern Israel. What we do know is that the human is a woman in her 50's and the animal is a young dog. Her left arm and hand are reaching to this young dog, touching what is left of the paws. Both skeletons are curled toward one another in fetal positions. They were found this way.

This Truth is about Devotion, Love, Loyalty and Refusal to be separated. I have been holding this picture on my altar to Phoenix. This Truth that is crystalized in this photo has brought me to the floor again these last couple of days. It reaches and speaks to me beneath any and all words, even the words I have already articulated these last 8 months. So I will not be saying anything further about this image....

Except...I have fallen into this deeply excavated ancient burial beside these two skeletons. I need them right now.

Love,
Me

Flashbacks

Dear Web,
Flashbacks are symptoms that affect people who are suffer from PTSD...it's caused by a certain part of the brain that doesn't register linear time. These flashes take us back to moments of the most poignant trauma and register in our bodies as if it is literally happening in present time. There are several flashback scenes that happen for me, but the one that haunts me most recently is that irreversible moment I wasn't even physically present for--the moment Phoenix was shot.

I believe I know what that moment was, even though I wasn't home at the time. How I know came from a vision I had later that night as I lay beside Phoenix petting him, singing to him, sobbing, keening. At one point I drifted off into a stupor that might have been a moment of sleep. I woke with a start because I literally heard D.'s wife scream: "SHOOT HIM!!" followed by the gunshot that killed Phoenix. My heart was pounding and I was so scared and sure that this was what happened. I felt like that dream/vision was a gift from Spirit so I would know.

These last several days I have been assaulted by that scene, that flashback. It's not like I cannot still function while it's happening, but it derails me for those seconds and it's like I cannot quite dodge the flood of what I am seeing/hearing. I try to focus on other things, the trees around me, something to redirect the flood. I pray for help to not be held captive by that moment. And I have to admit that as painful as that moment is to experience and I am grateful when it passes, it's the one point of sanity, of Truth of why everything feels so wrong and unfamiliar in my life. It's the sobering slap that undeniably says: Phoenix is gone.

Today I had to go to the branch of my bank on the side of town where I used to live. As I drove there, I could feel the urgent longing for the time I lived there...because, you see, then Phoenix would be alive. In fact, this time last year, November 15th, there I was...there we were...in that home. See, I tell myself, all I have to do is drive this familiar way home and all will be well. I wanted it so bad...I had that Desire for it, at any price, I heard myself negotiate! I will give up everything that is good since then, EVERYTHING!!! just to go back and see Phoenix there alive. Can't I just drive home to find him in his yard. We could play with Mr. Quackers (his favorite toy), maybe take a walk. AND.... Maybe there is something I can do on this day that would alter the course of the future events. Maybe I could do or say to these people....something that would erase the growing hate that ultimately yelled, "Shoot him!" and then pulled the trigger!

Hate...there is a Holocaust survivor, actually the oldest one in the world, who spoke about hate. If anyone deserves to hate, she and all the others like her do, not to mention every woman who has ever been violated in anyway. And this particular woman/survivor, her name is Alice, she says she doesn't hate the Nazi's. She says hate eats away at one's own soul. She lived through Nazi hate and saw not only what it did to millions of Jews, but what it did to the Nazi's themselves--to their humanity, their souls.

I am not Alice, nor do I forgive like she has. Sometimes I wonder how these people who killed Phoenix live with themselves. How they might be haunted by their hate that destroyed a precious life. How their own lives will forever reflect that somehow back to them. How maybe in the night they may waken to the sound of those two words and one single irreversible gunshot.

Lastly, I've been listening to James Taylor's Greatest Hits and have been taking his advice literally when he sings about having a friend, winter, spring, summer or fall...and all I have to do is call. I hear my own voice call, "Phoenix, I miss you. Phoenix, come . Phoenix!"

Phoenix!
Melissa

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