A few days to live, still rolling in snow
Emotions are part of reality, but only a part, and one must ever strive to balance the power of emotions with the more objective, balanced perspective that reason provides. Even as one must feel and acknowledge emotions such as grief and accompanying emotions and thoughts, as a human being one must at the same time struggle to rise out of the turbulent water and breathe fresh, clean air. Emotions are one’s own, whereas reason is common to all; hence, overly indulging in emotions such as grief isolates and intensifies one’s separation from others, whereas reason brings us together in commonly shared reality.
Among the fascinating comments by friends to me in recent days was that one of woman parishioner, who emailed me after the last Sunday Mass, saying, “I hope things weren't too unbearable for you today. You surely could give lessons on how to `hold it together’ in public.” Although I, too, had thought that it could prove challenging to perform my duties with four week-end Masses given Zoe’s death only a few days ago, actually performing my duties was not difficult at all. At no time did I feel tested in my soul to “hold it together” in public. Rather, I have been in fairly good peace since accepting God’s will expressed in the “spiritual exercise” written several days ago.
So it is not “holding it together” which attracts my attention; on the contrary, I wonder at the relative peace and quiet in my soul, given the intensity of my love for Zoe. I know well that waves of grief may still arise. Indeed, looking at some photos of Zoe early this morning brought in some tingles of sadness, but I also laughed as I recalled her zany personality and antics, and I delight anew in her zeal for Life. Rather than being overwhelmed by sorrow, I explicitly give thanks for our eight action-packed years together.
Without a doubt, Zoe was a powerful force in my life from the day after Rummy died. Reminding myself of some of our times together stirs up diverse feelings and thoughts, but I am not left wallowing in grief. Her final illness and death would bring more sorrow to me than they do if I isolated these last several weeks from our years together. I do not wish to forget the many happy adventures we shared, our love, the strange kind of relationship we often enjoyed, and Zoe’s abundance of antics that would “test the patience of a saint.”
Of all the consoling words spoken to me in the past five days, the ones that keep echoing in my mind were uttered by a number of persons in different ways, which can be summarized: "You gave Zoe a wonderful life.” Well, God gave her a wonderful life, and I was privileged to share in it. And what these friends are reminding me is that I should recognize the good life we had together, and be thankful. Their words sparked a thought in me—one which I used to consider: There would have been many owners of Zoe or a dog like her who would not have been so patient, so indulgent, so understanding of her Alpha Female ways. But I not only tolerated her, I adored her, I utterly delighted in her uniqueness, and I am thankful for that. On the other hand, I am aware that Zoe could have belonged to a skilled dog trainer who could have made her an outstanding hunting dog, or a champion in field tests, because she surely had these potentials. Under divine Providence, Zoe had me as her owner, and I think that our friends have discerned the truth: Zoe had a wonderful life, and for this I am truly thankful.
Among the fascinating comments by friends to me in recent days was that one of woman parishioner, who emailed me after the last Sunday Mass, saying, “I hope things weren't too unbearable for you today. You surely could give lessons on how to `hold it together’ in public.” Although I, too, had thought that it could prove challenging to perform my duties with four week-end Masses given Zoe’s death only a few days ago, actually performing my duties was not difficult at all. At no time did I feel tested in my soul to “hold it together” in public. Rather, I have been in fairly good peace since accepting God’s will expressed in the “spiritual exercise” written several days ago.
So it is not “holding it together” which attracts my attention; on the contrary, I wonder at the relative peace and quiet in my soul, given the intensity of my love for Zoe. I know well that waves of grief may still arise. Indeed, looking at some photos of Zoe early this morning brought in some tingles of sadness, but I also laughed as I recalled her zany personality and antics, and I delight anew in her zeal for Life. Rather than being overwhelmed by sorrow, I explicitly give thanks for our eight action-packed years together.
Without a doubt, Zoe was a powerful force in my life from the day after Rummy died. Reminding myself of some of our times together stirs up diverse feelings and thoughts, but I am not left wallowing in grief. Her final illness and death would bring more sorrow to me than they do if I isolated these last several weeks from our years together. I do not wish to forget the many happy adventures we shared, our love, the strange kind of relationship we often enjoyed, and Zoe’s abundance of antics that would “test the patience of a saint.”
Of all the consoling words spoken to me in the past five days, the ones that keep echoing in my mind were uttered by a number of persons in different ways, which can be summarized: "You gave Zoe a wonderful life.” Well, God gave her a wonderful life, and I was privileged to share in it. And what these friends are reminding me is that I should recognize the good life we had together, and be thankful. Their words sparked a thought in me—one which I used to consider: There would have been many owners of Zoe or a dog like her who would not have been so patient, so indulgent, so understanding of her Alpha Female ways. But I not only tolerated her, I adored her, I utterly delighted in her uniqueness, and I am thankful for that. On the other hand, I am aware that Zoe could have belonged to a skilled dog trainer who could have made her an outstanding hunting dog, or a champion in field tests, because she surely had these potentials. Under divine Providence, Zoe had me as her owner, and I think that our friends have discerned the truth: Zoe had a wonderful life, and for this I am truly thankful.
