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"Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
— Psalm 30:5
Those of us, my gentle reader, who have reached our 70's and beyond have most probably experienced the loss of someone dear to us, a person we loved or a pet we cherished. At such times grief walks unbidden through the door like an unwelcome visitor that refuses to leave. It seems that everything in our lives as humans has been studied and grief is no exception. Although it can feel like being stuck in a quagmire, research suggests grief is not static but is "a dynamic process.” Depression is often a large part of grief and can make it seem static and ever-enduring.
Grief can cast a heavy, impenetrable shadow over our lives for many reasons: loss of someone we love, someone in the family, a friend or a beloved pet. We might also be mourning the loss of our robust health, loss of our home, separation from those we love. It's a long list that goes on and on. According to the researchers' findings, grief can impact our cardiovascular health. It can also have a negative impact on our body's healing process. Grief can trigger symptoms such as deep depression, dizziness, shortness of breath, lightheadedness, heart palpitations and even increased blood pressure. Sleeplessness can be part of the grieving process and can lead to irritability and even have an impact on our good judgment.
When our Pierre died my grief was both physical and emotional. Yes, he was a dog, not a person, but Pierre was also a dearly loved friend and companion. His mischievous nature made us laugh; his love was unconditional and boundless. For 15 years, he was our constant companion. I quickly discovered grief has its own sharp triggers. A song, a sound, an object that belonged to Pierre, a thunderstorm reminding me how afraid he was of thunder and would stick to my side like glue through the storm. All these and more can trigger a tidal wave of grief and longing for what is forever gone. I even found myself half-expecting Pierre to greet me when I came home from doing errands or shopping. I discovered to my regret that things I enjoyed doing, things to which I looked forward to as morning opened the day no longer held my interest. Evenings were and still are the most difficult times. When twilight closed the day, we three would settle in the family room. Rob and I would talk over the day, watch a favorite show, while Pierre lay on the rug close-by enjoying a good chew on his filled Kong.
We all know grief passes. It may take weeks or months but eventually the curtain lifts and we can catch glimpses of the good life we knew before the mourning that seemed endless. Once in a while, something may again trigger that feeling of loss, and the dark curtain that was lifting may come crashing down again. Eventually it will lift completely and even disappear altogether. Then we can talk about the one we lost, smile at the memories that once stabbed like nettles. Those memories will eventually become part of family history that we talk about, laugh about around the holiday table. One thing we know for sure: the one we lost will never be forgotten in the daily maelstrom that the passing years will bring. There will always be a place deep in our hearts and in our memories for that treasure of love, companionship, peace and joy that was ours for a time.