Loss

Tags

death, Grief, Loss

The loss of a loved one is, I think, the most devastating thing that we as humans will experience. There is really nothing like it, nothing it can be compared to, nothing that hurts as badly.

Loss takes us to a place where we join others who have experienced the same thing. We somehow form a bond with people we will never know, never meet. We become separated from those who have not yet experienced loss, even though we know they will.

Loss becomes even more intense if you actually watch a loved one take their last breath. It is an overpowering, overwhelming sense of loss that is so personal that nothing will ever remove that moment from your mind. You watched that person be no more. It is forever.

Loss takes a piece of you away. It feels like something is missing, not just the person, but a part of yourself. And no matter where you are in your own life, your world after loss is inexorably changed. You can, after an initial period of grief, try to go back to life as it was, but no, this doesn’t happen. It never will. It is a new world and a strange one at that.

Nothing seems to make sense anymore. You are not the same person anymore. Where you were strong, now you are weak. Where you used to laugh, now you cry. Where you enjoyed life, now you are sad. You are lost.

People reach out when they see your loss. They want to help, but they soon realize they are unable to. And then you start to feel as if you are invisible. That’s because after a while, people start to be uncomfortable around you. You remind them of death, of loss, of grief. And regardless of whether they’ve experienced it first-hand or not, they want no part of it. They want to live in denial. I get that. It’s human nature, I guess, to not want to think about the bad things, to want to live in a place where loss doesn’t exist. Who wouldn’t?

And so in addition to feeling like a piece of you is gone, you begin to feel a loneliness that cannot be taken away by the people in your life. They don’t understand that your loss has made you feel different, alienated, empty. They don’t understand when you don’t want to participate in things, and they judge you for it.

Loss is raw. It eats at you from the inside out. It is a rawness that leaves you defenseless against just about anything. You have nothing with which to fight, to stake out a place for yourself in this new world. You may think you’re okay until something happens that touches that raw part of you and the loss is right there, just as unbelievably horrifying as it was the first time.

We’re not stupid, none of us. There are births, and we rejoice. There are deaths, and we mourn. Yet we choose to consciously and subconsciously deny death until it is right in front of us and we have no choice but to deal with it. I sometimes wonder now, because I made that choice too, if shielding yourself makes a difference when the loss occurs. I don’t think it does, so if you’ve not experienced loss yet, stave it off, by all means, as long as you like. And if you have experienced it, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

This is loss.

Resurrection

Tags

death, Grief, Loss, resurrection

I’ve been seeing ads for a new ABC show with the above name. The ads are sickening to me; they show people coming back from the dead. What kind of cruel sick joke is that? I would like nothing more for the door to open and my husband to walk in. But I know that will never happen. He’s been gone almost three years, and I know it’s impossible.

If you’ve lost a loved one, I’m sure you would love to see that person walk in the door. Maybe there’s something you wish you’d said or had a chance to say before their death. Maybe you want to tell that person all the things they’ve missed, all those times you wanted to turn to that person and tell them something, only to realize they’re not here anymore. Maybe you just want with every bit of your being to have that person back. But you know that’s just not going to happen, because people don’t really come back from the dead. They just don’t.

So where is the audience for this type of sick joke? I don’t think anyone who has lost a loved one could sit through even a few minutes of this without breaking down. I can’t even stand the ads, little vignettes showing a husband and wife, thirty years later, seeing their child just as he was before he died? Watching these actors as they are seeing their dead child is horribly heart-wrenching.  And these are just actors, playing a role. Sick.

If you’re a religious or spiritual person, you may believe that you will see all of your loved ones in another domain or dimension. Even so, you know you’ll never see them in this world. But believing you will see them again after your own demise is some comfort, and I understand that. Maybe that makes it possible for you to watch this type of show. But I don’t think so.

There’s plenty of trash on TV.  We have zombies, vampires, ghosts, seers, gurus, hoarders, polygamists, and yes, the Kardashians.  Enough.

I promise you this is one show I won’t be watching. It’s horrifying and sickening to prey on the emotions of people who’ve lost loved ones and somehow twist reality to give them any hope whatsoever that such a thing could ever happen.  It can’t and it won’t. It’s hard enough to deal with loss without having this type of ridiculous tripe out there. Maybe it’s time to turn the TV off.

The Panda Cam

Tags

Cancer, Giant panda, Government shutdown, Grief, Loss, Mei Xiang, NationalZoo, Panda Cam, Tai Shan

I’m glad the government shutdown is over. It wasn’t necessary and it hurt the economy. I’m also glad the National Zoo’s Panda Cam is back on, because it’s  been a strange and wonderful part of my life for many years.

I was one of those people who never had a warm, fuzzy feeling about pets in general.  There were a few cats over the years, but I never really formed a strong attachment. We had a dog for a brief time, but to me he was just another responsibility.

And then things changed. In July of 2005, I was self-employed, working out of an office in my home when Mei Xiang, the female panda at the National Zoo, gave birth to a tiny, hairless creature. I was mesmerized. Every morning I would turn on the Panda Cam and watch as this giant panda so very carefully nurtured her tiny baby. It became a part of my daily routine to observe her devotion, never venturing outside to eat for weeks. And as I watched, something was happening to me. I don’t know if it was some strange awakening of my maternal instincts, but a voice inside my head starting saying, on a very regular basis, “Get a dog.”

What? I don’t even like dogs. So I kept on watching the Panda Cam and ignoring that little voice. But it was relentless. So finally, I decided to speak to my husband about it. He was the animal lover, not me. When we were first together, he woke up one morning with tears in his eyes. He had dreamed about a dog he had loved and had to give up, and remembering made him cry.

He was pretty dismissive about my getting a dog, so I kind of let it go. But the voice was still there and I was still doing the Panda Cam thing every day. Now the baby panda, a boy, had a name, Tai Shan, and was getting bigger and bigger by the day. I began going to the local animal shelter, not all the time, but once in a while. I think I was trying to “shake it off,” because it just didn’t make sense for me to want a dog.

I raised the subject again with my husband, and he gradually started to respond more positively. Well, he said, it has to be a female and she has to have short hair. Okay, that was pretty reasonable, I thought. A few weeks later, on a Saturday when Mark was working, I made another trip to the animal shelter. And there, in a pen, were two small puppies. The sign said they were half chocolate lab and half white spitz. They clearly had short hair, but both were male. Suddenly, one of the puppies jumped up on his hind legs, put his paws and his cute little nose through the holes in the pen and just wagged and wagged his tail at me. And in that moment, I knew he was The One.

A short time later, I was on my way home with my new puppy, courtesy of the Panda Cam, when my husband called. Don’t ask me how, but he knew, saying, “You got a dog, didn’t you?”  I could tell he was a little uptight about it. He had never really been 100% on board, but now he had no choice. And he wasn’t happy that the puppy was a male. But I countered with the fact that he had short hair. I was pretty nervous about the whole thing at that point, not sure how this was going to go. But what the hell, the voice in my head had been pretty adamant and I just couldn’t shut that voice down no matter how hard I tried.

So I got some books and began my adventure into actually raising a dog. He became Baxter Reese (I don’t know why, but Mark wanted the Reese part, so we went with it). It was work, but I enjoyed it and never regretted it. Baxter became a part of our lives. I would walk him in the early morning, and then Mark and I would walk him when he came home from work. We sought out places where Baxter could run and play, and we always took him out on the boat, which he loved.

One evening, we were sitting on the couch and I went through another “voice in my head” experience. This one was telling me that when I was gone, Baxter would be a great companion and comfort to Mark. And it gave me a sense of relief, although it almost made me cry. I honestly can’t remember whether I told Mark or not, but I’m thinking now that because it sounded so morbid, I did not.

And then, in 2008, we found out Mark had cancer. But the doctors were very positive, it was treatable and we had nothing to worry about. Besides, I was the one who was going to die first, I was sure. But it was not to be. Mark’s cancer spread, and in August of 2011, after a horrible final year of suffering, he died. We had hospice at home, and yes, Baxter was up on the bed with Mark some of that last day. He couldn’t be kept out.

In the days and weeks after Mark’s death, there were lots of people around. But then everyone went back to their own lives and it was just me and Baxter. I remember thinking, wait a minute, this isn’t the way it was supposed to happen. How’s that for denial? I was constantly looking around for Mark, just part of the process, they say, learning to accept that your loved one is really gone. It takes a while. Baxter, though, seemed to know. A couple of times I said the word Daddy, I don’t know why, maybe just to see what kind of reaction I’d get. He would just look straight back at me, as if to say, “Mommy, you know darn well he’s not here anymore.” He got it even if I didn’t.

For a long time, I had no desire to go anywhere or do anything. I got up every day and took care of the details of life, but I didn’t really want to live without him. Through it all, Baxter was there for me in ways it’s hard to describe. Mostly, he taught me about being in the now. We lived our lives together, he and I, as the world went on all around us. Tai Shan had been sent to China. The Panda Cam was still operational, but no more baby panda.

And then, in the summer of 2012, a year after Mark’s death, there were signs that Mei Xiang was pregnant. And I was beginning to want to go places and do things. My granddaughter Willow was almost three, so I suggested we take her to the National Zoo. Mei Xiang had just given birth, and I had been avidly watching the Panda Cam. I knew we wouldn’t be able to visit the pandas, but that was okay. I remember that day so well, because it was the first time I had ventured out for a whole day and actually enjoyed myself, the first prolonged moments of happiness and pleasure in my life in a long, long time.

A week later, I awoke to the news that the tiny baby panda had died. Thankfully, I wasn’t watching the Panda Cam at the time, but once the watchers heard Mei Xiang crying, they immediately turned it off anyway. I was completely crushed and fell apart. I was feeling her pain at her loss and reliving my pain for the millionth time. I was miserable for weeks, and it was a long time before I wanted to go out again.

I’m better now, and Baxter is right here at my feet as I’m writing. And there is a new baby panda, a girl this time. And the Panda Cam is back on!

Willow, Baxter and Me

And so it’s Baxter and me, with the present not being the future I supposed it would be. Many times I’ve wished it was that future instead of this one. But here I am, slowly but surely learning to accept the present and live in the now, just like Baxter. I know one day I will have to say goodbye to Baxter, and it’s a future I can’t imagine having to deal with. Maybe it will be the other way around. If anyone knows for sure, it’s probably Baxter, not me.