Routines

It's coming up on two months since we lost Dolce.  I can't believe how fast time has gone by.  Isn't it strange how time just moves on even though you're grieving?  The Fall term began, I made it through all 10 seasons of Friends, and now I'm nearing the end of all 7 seasons of Gilmore Girls, times does not stop.  Once Gilmore Girls is over I'm not sure what I will do next.  Since Dolce passed away I've struggled with resuming my old routines.  I've been told that in times of grief we try to find control in any way possible.  I think this may be true.  I've refused to watch television unless it is Friends or Gilmore Girls on DVD.  I stopped blow-drying my hair.  This probably seems silly to most, but my hair takes a long time to dry naturally and looks terribly undone and frizzy.  My point is that I refuse to blow-dry my hair.  I suppose in some way I want to look less put together than I was before I lost Dolce.  It is a way to show that I'm not done grieving and I am still hurting.

Have any of you experienced this need to end routines after losing someone you love?  Care to share them with me?

Healing...

I am on the path to healing.  Dolce's death has done that for me.  I am realizing that his death has silenced me, given me the opportunity to block out the outside world and become increasingly introspective. I am learning so much about myself, about life in general, and about healing old wounds.  As grateful as I am to be moving into a more positive and peaceful place, I still hate that I've come to this place due to losing Dolce.  That part still hurts, and most likely always will.  I feel like anger over past hurts is melting away and I am evolving into the being I was meant to be.

Thank you Dolce, you have been the ultimate teacher.  We certainly worked to heal each other didn't we.

Dolce and The Velveteen Rabbit

An excerpt from The Velveteen Rabbit:

The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew th

at they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

"I suppose you are real?" said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.

But the Skin Horse only smiled.

I read this excerpt and I immediately thought of Dolce.  He was neglected and forgotten until we found him.  He was old, slowly walked on his stiff little legs, had a misaligned/crooked jaw, missing toenails, and stains all over the white parts of his fur, and he was perfect.  We made him real and once he was real he was able to move on.  Animals like Dolce are such a blessing.  I believe it is souls like his that are sent to us to teach us about life, love and making better choices. 

Baking

I've been baking a lot lately.  It's been a way to distract myself and help me feel more comfortable being at home when Brett is away at work.  I think if I tallied it up, I would find that I've baked more zucchini bread this summer than if you totaled up all of the zucchini breads I've made in my life prior to this summer...it should probably be noted that I've made quite a few zucchini breads in my lifetime.

I think I may be ready to move on from the zucchini bread, but I'm looking for suggestions.  Any suggestions for a great baked good?  A baked good meant for humans?  Or perhaps a baked good for the dogs?  Please share any recipes you may have.  I'd like to try some out and then post the outcome on here.

 

Am I the Only One?

I know Dolce has passed away, but I still call out his name from time to time.  Does that seem strange?  Am I the only one that does that?  In a way calling out his name gives me comfort, and on some level I secretly hope that he will come walking down the hall to greet me.  It all happened so fast.  Dolce was doing so great until that last week.  We had one bad week and he was suddenly gone, and now I am forced to come to a place of acceptance.  I hope I am not alone in still calling out my deceased pet's name.

Dreaming of Dolce

I just woke up from the most amazing dream; so amazing I need to stop and write it all down before I forget.  Let me set the scene up first.

Last night I cried pretty hard before falling asleep.  It's been getting easier for me to get through longer periods of time without crying.  When I do cry I feel a tiny bit better, like I'm letting it out.  Last night, I cried because I miss Dolce and because it seemed so unfair that I was given the most amazing gift (Dolce) and loved him so intensely and then lost him, all within a year and a half.  I was (and I still am) mad because it feels like I was gypped.  I gave all that I had, and then lost him.  I am aware how selfish I sound.  It is obviously the grief talking, which I have come to realize is the most selfish emotion I've ever experienced.   I also cried because of how angry I am at the person or persons that had Dolce before me.  They had no idea what an amazing little guy they had and instead wasted time, abused Dolce and neglected him, which all lead to my time with him being greatly shortened.  The short of the long is that I hurt and it is unfair.  I always felt our time would be short, so on some level his passing comes as no surprise, but accepting that the time we were given was sufficient or accepting that he is gone is not something I am capable of yet.

Back to setting the scene...

I had trouble sleeping last night.  I woke up several times throughout the night, but each time eventually fell back asleep.  Finally at 6am I thought I may as well try to fully wakeup, but I didn't have the energy or heart to get out of bed.  Mornings have been hard for me since Dolce passed.  My morning was always filled with Dolce.  Getting up each morning has been hard, because my purpose each morning is no longer there.  For about 25 minutes I kept shifting and turning, rearranging my limbs until I found a favorable sleeping position and I fell back asleep.  The strange thing is that for me, I rarely fall asleep and dream after being as awake as I had been.  

On to the dream...

In my dream I was in bed, probably just about in the same position I was in while I was sleeping.  I was  laying in my bed thinking about Dolce and how much I missed him when I felt a small dog walking on my comforter and resting on my chest.  In my dream I recognized the pressure and thought that perhaps it was Dolce visiting me again.  I should also point out that last Friday after another late-night cryfest I woke up to what felt like one of my dogs walking across the bed.  I looked over and saw both Rico and Chico asleep and I felt Brownie near my feet.  None of them had been walking across the bed.  Of course it was the middle of the night and I was not fully awake, so there is the chance that I made the whole thing up or it could have been a dream, which is why I didn't really share it with anyone.  In fact it took me a few days before I shared the story with Brett.  So in the dream I slowly placed my hand on my chest and immediately felt Dolce's fur.  I should point out that I am a habitual under the covers sleeper, (there is no other way for me) when combined with my thick down comforter it would be very easy for me to sleep and not see which dog or if any dog was on top of my chest.  Just wanted to clarify. Once I felt his fur I began petting him, stroking his fur like I always did and rubbing his little chest.  Eventually I pulled my down comforter out of the way and I saw that Dolce was really there, in real physical form.  I was so happy.  I think I even cried.  I told him how much I missed him and love him.  This is where the dream is beginning to fade.  Eventually the dream began to morph into something else, but Dolce was in it, with me until I woke up.  The most amazing part of the whole experience is the fact that within my dream I was aware of Dolce's passing and the emotions I have been feeling were within my dream.  It was like my conscious-self was given the opportunity to spend time with Dolce in the dream-world, my subconscious.   

Timehop

Each morning I receive an email from TimeHop, a free service sending daily email reminders of what you were doing 1 year ago on that day.  I've attached my twitter and Facebook accounts and love seeing and remembering where I was 1 year ago to the day.  It is a great way to reminisce, to realize how far you've come since that time, or to just have a good laugh.

Today my Timehop included details on taking my pack of 4 (Rico, Chico, Dolce and Brownie) to the Huntington Dog Beach for the first time.  What a great memory.  I had wanted to take Brownie and Dolce to the beach because I was sure they had never been before, and Rico and Chico love the beach. I wanted all of them to have a great day, to have as much fun as possible, and for all of us to be together.  At the time I found the outing to be somewhat stressful and not great for me (Brett would agree), but the dogs had the best time.

I remember feeling all I wanted was to give Dolce as many experiences as possible, well good experiences.  So when I could, I took Dolce out and tried my best to help him feel loved and like he was living the life of a spoiled little pup.

This morning after reading my Timehop email I mentioned to Brett that 1 year ago I never would have thought that a year from that point Dolce would be gone.  Brett is so good to me, he helps bring me down to Earth and reminds me when I'm being irrational.  He reminded me of how I continually said that I felt like Dolce only had a year left in his life.  Brett was/is right.  I always felt like our time together would be short, and I wanted to jam as many amazing experiences and outings as I could into the time we had.  I am so glad that we took the time to give him those experiences.  It was so worth it!  And most of all, I think I needed it.  

I am so thankful that during my life with Dolce I did a good job of being present, not all the time, but a majority of the time.  I recognized when amazing moments were happening, and with some slight fear of being thought of as doggie-obsessed and socially unacceptable, I utilized social media to document them.  So many times during my journey with Dolce I remember thinking that I was witnessing something beautiful and something that I would want as a lifelong memory.  This is where I start crying as I type.  It's amazing how we don't want to forget in the moment.  But once the moment is gone and all that is left is the memory, the memory doesn't seem to be enough.  Memories will never be tangible enough for my liking.  Reading back on my documented memories with Dolce gives me some comfort, after all, it is all I have left.

If there is any major take away from life with Dolce it is that time is fleeting and all we can do is try our best to present and mindful of the moments taking place.  Document them, photograph them, do whatever you can to preserve those moments.  At some point those moments will mean the world to you.

July 23, 2011 as posted on Facebook: Had a great afternoon with the dogs at the Huntington Dog Beach.  My bed is littered with sleeping dog bodies...perfection.

July 23, 2011 as posted on Twitter: http://twitpic.com/5up1zd