creator, editor, story tender
A week of… coming to terms…
Still struggling with the COLD/FLU/DEATHBUG from hell, but I have hope. My energy seems to be returning, and I actually managed to SWYM yesterday…though the Writing Hours are still…. sorely lacking.
And, then comes the huge heart-crushing sadness of having to plan a farewell to our well beloved fourlegged compadre, Robbie. She has been a wonderful friend to us all. Oh we will miss her so.
I have no words right now. There is much weeping. My sweet Raggedy Man is outside, as I write this. He is digging a grave as the snow swirls around him. I will go and join him soon.
Much thanks to friends who have called or written to offer comfort.
If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans. ~James Herriot
We will have the weekend together, and say our final farewells on Tuesday.
It aches to type this.
oof.
And the rest of the week? Right. The world keeps moving…doesn’t it? Today we move into the Last Quarter of the Hunter’s Moon.
…and…
So… yes… energy returns. Slow and steady.
Everyone has their own way through this and you cannot lift this from them. You can’t really … EASE their grief… no more than they can ease yours. All you can really do is be present with them and they with you. Remember that Pam.
To be gentle with everyone involved, including myself. To be strong for Robbie and to see her through to the very end. To her rest.
~~~~~
Get out a tissue….
go easy… yes. Please.
go easy ~p
In homage to Havi’s Friday Chickens over on the The Fluent Self — This is the place I review my week – in an attempt to track some things – like progress on my novel and… living intentionally. I shake out my week and lay it out. Let the hard burn off and the good sink in. Call it an experiment in paying attention.
Comments are cherished here. Discussion is adored. If you’d rather talk in private – drop me a line.
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Stories and photos from Scotland
Historical fiction, poetry, essays
A post-dramatic approach to breast cancer
Because there's never enough time to do it right the first time but there's always enough time to do it over
Stories and photos from Scotland
Historical fiction, poetry, essays