Sing-Along

I'm convinced.  March 3rd will always be the worst day of mourning.  I thought I was doing fine until 15 minutes after my responsibilities for the day were complete.  Before I was technically off campus I was bawling.  I think the 4th will be a more reflective day, and I hope to do a lot of writing tomorrow.  I haven't written much lately, and there is a lot I want to put on record.  I am more thankful than I would have predicated to have, from the beginning, recorded this whole miserable process.  I am committed to embracing my grief as the only way to pay respects to Millie.  But it's hard to let all these feelings wash over me and consume me.  Having a record of my grief helps me get in touch with it all when I have time and space to do so.

For now, I simply want to put forth some song lyrics.  It is admittedly a bit juvenile to rely on another person's songs to express myself, but I'm no poet, nor am I even much of a poetry reader.  But I am a song listener, and I am quite skilled at reinterpreting songs so that they are obviously about Millie and me.  In an earlier post I compiled a playlist of songs I used to sing to Millie.  Soon I hope to compile a list of the songs that have really gripped me in my grieving process.  But, for now, here are the lyrics for what I think have been the two most important songs in this process.

White Lexus (Mike Doughty)
Please show me how to live.
Please show me how to have a day.
I don't want to wake up now.
Why do I have to wake up, anyway?

Like a soap star in anguish,
shrill but bland.
When your white Lexus comes
around the way,
idling in a long driveway.
Try to feel nothing on command.
When your white Lexus comes,
the thrill be damned.

I forgive the world right now.
Still I play the chump's role every time.
My world's the surface of the moon.
My heart's down in a diamond mine.

Like the black stars of Memphis,
moaning on.
When your white Lexus comes
to drive me out,
drive me to the edge of town.
Try to feel nothing on command.
When your white Lexus comes,
the thrill be damned,
damn it to the last damned man.
When your white Lexus comes.

What could this possibly be about besides a plea to anything and everything that might offer strength, comfort, or guidance in the face of earth-shattering grief for a beloved puglet?

How Can I Tell You (Cat Stevens)
How can I tell you that I love you?
I love you.
But I can't think of right words to say.
I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you.
I'm always thinking of you,
but my words just blow away.
Just blow away.
It always ends up to one thing, honey,
and I can't think of right words to say.

Wherever I am, girl,
I'm always walking with you.
I'm always walking with you,
but I look, and you're not there.
And whoever I'm with,
I'm always talking to you.
I'm always talking to you,
and I'm sad that you can't hear.
I'm sad that you can't hear.
It always ends up to one thing, honey,
when I look, and you're not there.

I need to know you,
need to feel my arms around you.
Feel my arms you,
like sea around a shore.
Each night and day I pray
and hope that I might find you.
Hope that I might find you,
because hearts can do more.
It always ends up to one thing, honey,
still I kneel upon the floor.

How can I tell you that I love you?
I love you.  I love you,
but I can't think of right words to say.
I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you.
I'm always thinking of you.
It always ends up to one thing, honey,
and I can't think I've right words to say.

This song is clearly about a young woman struggling to fully and accurately express her love and grief for a lost pug soul-mate.

March

I hate March.  It seems like March itself creeps up on us, grabs our hearts, and squeezes hard.  And that's on a good year.

10 years ago today we lost Buttercup.
6 years ago on the 14th we lost Dwight.
1 year ago Friday we lost Millie.

For me, this week is all leading up to Thursday.  I want to push aside my grief for Millie until Friday, when I can sequester myself, but even though the anniversary of her death is Friday, I know that all day Thursday I will be thinking that it was a year ago when I last saw her alive.  Friday is the anniversary of what I think will always be one of the worst days of my life.  Thursday is the anniversary of the last time my life felt normal.

But I've been thinking a lot about Buttercup today too.  She was just such a good dog.  Such a good heart.  I am surprised and saddened that, in all honesty, I remember so few details.  But I offer my thanks to her.  For making me a dog person.  Living so closely with her from the age of 5 to 18, from before I could read until I starting dedicating far too much of my life to reading, I know she had no small impact on the person I have become even after her death.  She is, without a doubt, why I am the dog lover I am today.  She paved the way for me to love Millie so completely and so devastatingly.

And although Ruby is not much like any other creature the world has ever known :) she is more like Buttercup than Millie.  At one point, maybe a couple of years after Buttercup died, I was able to process my grief by realizing that I could continue loving Buttercup by loving other dogs.  My relationship with Buttercup didn't have to end because I could go on putting my love for her out into the world.  I realized that, in loving dogs, caring for them with the most steadfast dedication, I honor Buttercup.  I'm not ready for that realization with Millie; my love for Millie is still for no one and nothing but Millie.  Honoring her by loving anyone else just feels...piddly.  I can't help but cling to my love for Millie because it's all I have left.  But I can recognize and remember that I pay respects to my relationship with Buttercup through my love for Ruby.