Good Grief

I am sad. I am very very sad. I know tons of people and being in the cancer community, I deal with death too much but the last time I was this sad was when my great grandpa passed away when I was in 7th grade. I know that may seem over the top since well, it was a dog versus people and let's be clear people as a group outrank dogs as a group but she was always here. It's against my religion to have bad days and I rarely sin and I haven't committed at least that sin once this week since Puppy's passing. 

But there have been moments, unpredictable some and some all but expected. When I finish my cereal and remember that I can't go put down the leftover milk for puppy to lick up that I tear up. When there's a little bit of salmon left and I tell Kiana and Elaine that we need to pack it up or finish it because it's expensive just to not bawl on that I can't put it in puppy's bowl. Puppy was never a loud dog, rarely barked but I miss the clicking of her too long nails in the wood and tile floors, the flapping open of the dog door and the magnets getting into place. I put away my laundry usually pretty fast since I fold it on the floor while watching TV but this week I let it sit in the middle of the living room for longer and took the coffee table purposely to where her food and bed used to be to make that space not look so damn empty. 

Speaking of damned, I don't know what to do with words of comfort people offer. I say thank you every time and don't argue. I mean even the vet's pamphlet talked about some mythical rainbow bridge. I've gotten the all dogs go to heaven a few times. There was the suggestion of a tattoo because of how much I loved her. There was even one person who shared about dog cloning things. I get it, we all deal with sadness in different coping mechanisms. 

I don't know what happens after humans or dogs die. I wonder if it's something like the movie from the invention of lying where heaven is just something we made up once to find comfort in. I have a degree in religion so I'm aware of the different portrayals/perception of the after life in both the good and bad. Even with humor as my usual coping mechanism, the only joke I've been able to make about it all was in response to "all dogs go to heaven" with a lame, "That can't be true about puppy cause they say dogs resemble their owners." I have enough of a sense of justice to where I understand the desire for people to get their just deserves when they've gotten away with much of life and I've received enough grace to know too many people like me, get a far lifer kind than they deserve here and dream up that maybe, just maybe the Universe forgives those willing to receive it in some way Forever. 


I've heard intriguing stories about what people do with pet and human remains this week. We were very very practical about puppy's remains, not an ounce of romantic effort was put into them. I mean I'm the guy who wants to be cremated and flushed down the toilet. But don't think I did it so quickly. I almost got remains that I thought about holding onto and taking her back to the Marshall Islands in the style of Lindo y Querido. Or perhaps just spreading them in some of the best places we took our walks. But in the end we were strictly pragmatic. (I mentioned the toilet seat that a friend made for when my time comes to the vet after it was all done. Surprisingly or perhaps un-surprisingly since she regularly conducts euthanasia, she asked to see it.)

Let me be clear; this blog never has been, never will be a place for me to give advice (or take any thank you). It's just a place to describe the memories of this journey and if brain cancer takes a common path, life is kind enough to give me that luxury to read this story in my own words, to hear the story the way I remembered it at the time, with only immediate coloring in retro activeness not the one that we do with years past.

But how I grieved, Elaine and I have cleaned out more of our house during the recent past than ever. Shoes, tshirts, medals all types of things that were just sitting in drawers were taken to goodwill or trashed. I've heard the give me joy pattern going around and I respect it but to me it was simply is it used and is it useful and with very few exceptions if it didn't meet that criterion, it was time for it to go. I have great joy in my even damaged memory but I hope that somewhere until very near my final end, amazing joy on earth is always more forward than backward.

I also have been deleting hundreds of people on social media. I got my twitter and instagram down to double digits. On facebook I've been working on it for a while. The media and speeches had people follow my day to day. I never did know quite what to do with it simply running with it (pun intended) with the old idea that to whom much is given much is expected. I hope I've kept up with expectations but it's been over 8 years since I did my first interview about my cancer experiences with lots more in the 6 years since I won a marathon. I still have speeches in recent past and future but I think on my social media I'm just going to treat it like an old fashioned way to say hi in between chances to actually catch up with people. If that's the only way we can catch up, no real interaction in text, or calls or chat or phone calls, I'll pass. I want to know people better, not just mine and their short projected ideas dancing. I got along great with puppy for 15 years and we never once texted.

I'm not denying my grief. The tear ducts are in the system for a reason.  In cleaning out my closet and puppy's gear and boxes of this and that, I dare to dream that open spaces, yes they remind me of what's missing and make a few or many tears burst here and there. But I hope, and hope is my 4 letter word, that leaving space open clears some room for those tears to give empty soil some new room to grow.