We went out into the forest today to bury Sniffy (the rabbit; see below). It was a beautiful day, we found a little copse full of shade and sunlight and pine trees and the smell of the woods, dug a hole and put her in. We stood there for a while afterwards with the sun was beating down on our backs surrounded by the gentle rustle of branches as the trees swayed in the fresh, biting breeze.
And I had a feeling similar to that which I used to have when I left the nursing home after visiting my mother. A feeling I had to come to terms with because it always seemed so selfish and heartless but which welled up spontaneously from a part of my psyche which obviously has its own egotistic agenda. The feeling said, "thank the heavens and whoever else you want to thank that I can still leave this place..."
The feeling today arrived also quite out of the blue and was similarly selfish, "poor little Sniffy had to be put to sleep and can scamper round no more, but as for us ... we are still alive and can enjoy this glorious day".
I think that would be something I'd like to have said at my own funeral ... "I've had my go, you're all still having your go ... so make sure you bloody well enjoy it!"
3 comments:
I think that the hardest part of recovering from the death of a loved one is finding the strength to move forward. I struggle with that daily right now. It feels a betrayal of him to smile or laugh or to have fun. It feels like abandoning him to face his fate alone by moving forward without him. Yet I know without doubt that he would want me to go on. Not only go on, but to bloody well enjoy it. So I keep trying.
Too true
Hi, it's really the only way.
Post a Comment