Working through loss

October was a hard month. There were a few days in the first couple weeks after saying goodbye to Dude that I gladly would have stayed in bed if I hadn't needed to get up with the dogs. I felt like I was on autopilot.

But while on autopilot for the daily stuff (take care of the dogs, go to work, come home and take care of the dogs, go to barn for Bestie), there were a few instances when I felt hit over the head again with his loss.

One was of course the first night I came back to the barn. Bad.
One was writing the board check for just Bestie.
One was paying the bill for the vet visits (and I still have a bill coming for the final visit).
One was seeing a new horse in his stall and the new horse's name written on a paper sign stuck over Dude's stall door sign.

With all of these I felt a heavy, heavy weight of sadness. Tears came easily.

I've been reading a book entitled The Undefeated Mind. The quickie summary is that it's about being resilient. One chapter talks about stages of change as applied to loss, and this chapter really resonated with me. The first stage is precontemplation, where accepting a loss has not yet occurred. I would say that was the stage I was at through the last week in October. Then comes contemplation, which is not so tied up with the emotions of loss but you recognize that you're still attached to what you've lost. Then comes preparation, where you recognize that action is needed to let go. And the final stage is action.

I'd say I'm somewhere in the middle. I feel like I've gotten to a place that is not so emotional, but not quite ready to let go. Or, I should say, not quite ready to let go unless I can do it in the way I feel is necessary, which is to honor Dude. I couldn't just sell all his stuff. I feel that I need to shed anything I don't need to keep in a mindful way. My first small step was in giving his almost-full bag of rice bran to a boarder at the barn who feels her horse is losing weight. It made me feel good to give it to her. And I gave his turnout sheet to another boarder who has been a friend and always fun to be around, and her horse has a personality full of funny quirks like Dude. It makes me feel happy to see him in the sheet.

I like the thought of doling out his things in a way that matters, like a bit of Dude is going to still be present in a way that makes me happy and touches others. Small steps. There is a lot more to do, but really, there's no rush.

There have been moments of shared memories with people who knew him and some laughs about his idiosyncrasies. And just yesterday I got a card from our vets with really kind thoughts shared by everyone in the practice.

I've thought a lot about grief in the last year and a half, between losing my mom and now losing Dude. I've welcomed the questions of "how are you doing?" - I feel like each time I can answer that question, it helps me move along the spectrum of grief. I'm thankful to the people who have asked, and who have listened to my answer. 5 weeks later, I still have moments when I can't believe he's gone. But I feel like I'm no longer at a stage where there's so much raw emotion, and while I still feel sadness, I can celebrate the good memories and the joy that he brought to my life.