Yesterday morning at this time I started an entry that was all pain, all anguish, recounted my sense of disorientation without Danny, after 14 years of basically not going to the ladies room without him. His things are everywhere, I see him around every corner, I'm not coping. It was anguish incarnate and I decided not to publish it right away - the pain I live with isn't going away soon so that can wait. Today I woke up to the same sense of shock - Oh no, it's true- he's gone - and pain, emptiness and grief - but I keep having this other, beautiful thought course through my veins and I wanted to write it down lest I lose it as the day wears on.
The gifts he gave me need to be honoured, too.
To back up a bit; the Danny years were amazing in so many ways, but I did a number of things wrong that I began to recognize after we moved here, in 2017. Astrologers talk about the Saturn Return (a major spiritual event at about ages 30 and then 60) as a difficult passage, a time of reckoning, and the second one, around one's 60th birthday, can be brutal...my 60th year and 2nd Saturn Return definitely was. Between Alex's illness and my sudden, life changing need to be the sole income provider, to my health decline, to Danny's ageing (most visible after he turned 13) this has been a very tough few years. I didn't save money back when I could have, I didn't take care of my health. The amount of work I need to do now to keep us afloat has pushed all my career and personal goals to the backburner, and I sometimes despair I will ever get to any of them. It's easy to fall into depression, that I could have made this better ( hindsight is 20:20 indeed) and I often do. My animals, my time in nature, my spiritual path are all major sources of strength for me, and I try to keep perspective. If this Soul of mine is going on to a new life once this body is worn out, it will be a Soul that has travelled a long way and done a lot of Work. And that is what I focus on when I think of Danny and our years together - the good things, the positivity, the continued hope...the immense personal growth despite my mistakes in the material world....not the loss, fear, self reproach.
Well, some of the time I do anyway.
Danny burst into my life at such a dark time, I was definitely in the throes of PTSD, after losing both my brother and then Luke (who I was clinging to for dear life after John) so tragically. I wasn't ready for a puppy, I have told this story before, but there he was...all sweetfaced curiosity, love, and a considerable dose of timidity, which translated to really, really needing his Mom. He could be bold and insistent - always on the edge of hyperactive ('busy' was my tolerant euphemism) but always connected to me. One memory I have of him, when he was very young, maybe a year and a bit? I held a nutrition seminar at the Rupert Community Centre and he was there for a while, frantically socializing with everyone, he always enjoyed people and gatherings but didn't always read the individual well, often focusing on pestering the person who least wanted his attentions. That day, he was running around visiting everyone and suddenly realized he wasn't sure where I was - I was right across the room, he looked up and saw me - and the look on his face I will never forget..never. He literally burst into a smile and ran over to me, with that characteristic head tilt he did right until the very end. No matter how exciting a day was, Mom was always the most important thing. A few days before his death, he was at the back of the garden sniffing around, saw me and trotted over, head tilting, eyes full of love, just the same but old and slow. He'd see me through the window, and his eyes would just radiate love, even when he was so old and frail.
What did I ever do to deserve that?
I have many pictures of the smile, but this is my favorite. He was not yet one here, and everything, everyday, was SUCH a joy, he was so alive and happy and filled with Spirit.
I have to remember this: all through our years together, whatever mistakes I made, I tended to him with utmost love and care, and in my personal life, I accomplished a few things too...many, thanks to him.
People criticized me for building my life around Danny - his separation anxiety, which was pretty severe, meant I simply stopped going out to any event I couldn't bring him with me - which meant, a lot. The first year I remember I HAD to see a particular ballet at the NRC and Alex actually sat in the van with Danny the whole 3 hours, taking him out for a walk, then napping - I felt so awful that w as literally the last time I went to theatre or ballet. But here's the thing, I did not mind nor miss it. Every day for me was bliss - we had a routine, we had the garden, the Hills, our walks, we had our cuddles at night, me with a stack of books and my herbal tea, Dan curled up against my legs under the covers, till it got too warm and he'd burst out, flopping himself on the duvet, legs everywhere, asleep in a moment until it got too cold and back under the covers he went.. And through all this simplicity, this daily celebration of life, I started to change and grow. I discovered the work of herbalists like Paul Bergner and Kiva Rose the second year I had Danny and their approach revolutionized how I see my own work. My study of the ancient Celtic paths brought me in such intimate contact with nature, not in some flouncy, romanticized way, but the beauty and wonder and hardship of it. Dan and I drove around looking for crampbark, for elder, for red osier dogwood for conifer resin. We spent many a long day in various parts of the Hills, me with a magnifying glass and ID manual in hand, him always circling around but never straying far at all. He slept at my feet while I worked on my online studies. I ordered seeds from allover and he sat in his chair watching me tend them as they sprouted. Life was so sweet, simple and ...connected. Every single walk every single day was bliss and magic.
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And through it all, with his companionship and devotion and happiness beside me, I grew. I deepened, I spiralled into my true centre and I became..myself. Danny was the impetus for this change and the daily comfort for every part that was difficult. Through loss after loss - family, friends, betrayals and death, and eventually losing the house itself, he never wavered. Although I made mistakes (not getting bone density tests, for one) I can say from the bottom of my heart that I left Rupert a better, deeper, more centered person than when I moved in. And without hesitation, that Danny left his beloved Mom a much better human being, because of his love and devotion.
Danny Dan, my sweetheart and my love, thank you so much. All this pain is just a reflection of how much you meant, mean now and will always mean to me. Would that we could have had another 15 years! I'd take five! I miss you so so much, my Rabbit. Your absence engulfs my life, but your presence in my heart, my being, is indestructible.
Thank you for loving me so much I became more worthy of it, by the end. I will carry on this work, I promise.
I promise.
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