Today marks 35 weeks since Danny left me so abruptly, and in such soul-shattering pain. While the initial shock and extreme pain has eased, I am by no means back to any sort of normal. I am working - I have a puppy (can't bring myself to write much about him yet, but he is beautiful, loving and helps me so so much) I have 4 old, amazing cats and a tyrant of a parrot; I am surrounded by an oak forest and my herbalism/spiritual practise are strong within me. My health is both bad (fractured spine) and good (no diabetes, no overt heart disease, all blood values good etc). I strive to be a better human, mostly every day I do (I slack off on weekends and just do self care) and I still feel a glimmer of hope for myself and, more insanely, humanity. I look forward to tv at night with my partner; I can walk Gabriel 20-30 minutes once or even twice a day now. Awaiting medical help I have a better pain management protocol in place, and I do mostly all the natural stuff - D3, K2, multi-min, herbs, olive oil, flax, legumes and and and and and (scones, too, nobody's perfect).
Despite the troubles ahead for the world, the challenges of aging, and deep regret over my mistakes in my fifties, I feel love, wonder, hope and even occasional joy, at the miracle of life, at the sweetness of the puppy, the incredible humour of my bird (greets me with "Hello, Psycho "- and worse - and that's just the start of the day) I am so grateful for the tenderness and wisdom of my cats, this house full of books and herbs and all the collected and loved little things of my life so far. My partner and I could not be more opposite in our ways, but we also cannot be without each other, so we have it more or less worked out (we won't talk about dog training here).
And, still, Dan's absence is everywhere "over everything like the sky" as C.S. Lewis put it.
Still, I cry every day, talk to him every day, light his candle, feel the strangeness of being without him (me and Dan and Dan and me!) and often, watching Gabriel, I go back to the first years, before Lila died and Dan and I became truly a bonded, hyper-attached pair... (2007 -8) and marvel at how much we think we know about dogs, when in fact there is always a part that is so mysterious and Other. When I remember those years - Lila's last illness and surgery and eventual death...my father's death... my opening up to herbalism in a whole new way...my embracing of solitude...I stop and look at Danny's pictures and wonder - how was all this for you? He seems happy - crazy - full of life! and he was so well loved, cared for - fed... but his experiences, while I strive to understand them, are his own... there are many times I catch myself, in retrospect, projecting aspects of myself onto him. When I see Gabriel these days, I keep that sense of mystery, of his Other-ness, front and centre. More on that when I am able to write about Gabe.
Still, I was never apart from Daniel, and whatever mistakes I made, whatever human arrogance made me think I knew him entirely, however much I regret certain things that last year, his sudden vanishing and all that he and I were and did together - gone! there remains a palpable presence - his sweet face gazing out at me from pictures - in frames, on the fridge, everywhere...the emptiness of the backyard...and the eerie aura of loss and love in the room where I keep his ashes....along with an increasing amount of focus on my own healing, and of course, new puppy, my work and so on.
Up until fairly recently, that absence, that pain, was constant and unrelenting. It is, a little softer now, if still pervasive.
Maybe this is how it goes. I admit, after my brother died I was basically drunk for a year. I don't remember a lot. I remember after 3 months, being asked if I was "still taking it hard"....I recall the books I bought and a few very extraordinary experiences that made me feel sure John was somewhere, still, in spirit. And almost a year after John's death, I was Given the house in Rupert, which took me into the distracting chaos of a move and then...all the transformations and experiences that followed.
John is still with me, always but in such a less acute way....the pain is there, but I have learned to live with his absence, as much as anyone ever does. Perhaps that will be how Danny and will I shift too, from an omnipresent pain (I no longer drink, so nothing is ever buried) to a powerful presence of grace beside me; his spiritual presence, bringing growth and love, as he did in his physical being. Right now, the pain is forefront, as is the remorse, but I am trying to focus on the mistakes I feel I made and rectify them - so that this pain will translate to something meaningful, lasting.
And today, as always on Thursdays, I am feeling it deeply, reliving that morning, and thinking of the beautiful Gift that I had all those years, how much he gave me in life and left me with - and feeling gratitude through the tears.
This image seems to capture what I think of as Dan's Otherness - his Mystery, that same mystery all creatures embody, even as they live with and love us, even as we try to see them, and give them our love, however imperfectly...if not always exactly what it is they need the most.
I love you Danny. With all my heart - always, and forever.
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