I woke up feeling sad. At breakfast I asked Ravi how he was doing and he said “You know I told you I’ve never really been sad in my life. But I’m sad now.” Ravi and I are like twins sometimes. This didn’t bode well.

I spent the whole day on the verge of tears or actually crying. There is no way, I am learning, to predict this, still less to prepare for it. Grief hits you without warning, sneaks up on you while you are folding the laundry or signing a check. Suddenly, there you are – a helpless wreck.

Photo of November page of a calendar - picture is of a girl in bright yellow looking up expectantly

It started today just with seeing the calendar. November is Moy Moy’s  – she’s always been the pin-up girl in the Karuna Vihar calendar. Today is December 1st and I haven’t been able to turn the page over to the new month.

As the year draws to a close, I am feeling more and more panicky. 2018 will forever be the year we lost her. Moving into 2019 feels like we are leaving Moy Moy behind, in the past. I’m actively resisting. I don’t agree with time’s passage right now. I’m staying here where I am. With her.

You may my glories and my state depose.

But not my griefs. Still I am the king of those.

I guess sometimes reality is just too sad. Sometimes you have to bend it, reshape it, force it to accommodate you because you aren’t yet ready to accommodate it.

So I solved my calendar problem by going for a long walk (ten miles today) and when I came home I removed November and just extended  Moy Moy into December, into today, into the present moment:

Same calendar pagge as previous, but with December date padSad is hard. It’s exhausting. I cried so many times today I’ve lost track. I need another month and maybe another one after that and yet another after that. Those days and days, like they used to be – rolling out into the future, endless and uncounted; precious not because they were so few but because they seemed so many.

We were wrong to think we could take them for granted. I see that now. I want to hold her one more time. I want to tell her one last story, give her one last bath, one last feed. It’s crazy, this grief. A dear friend sent me this poem by Emily Dickinson:

We grow accustomed to the Dark 
When Light is put away —
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To witness her Good bye —
A Moment — We Uncertain step
For newness of the night —
Then — fit our Vision to the Dark —
And meet the Road — erect —
And so of larger — Darknesses —
Those Evenings of the Brain —
When not a Moon disclose a sign —
Or Star — come out — within —
The Bravest — grope a little —
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead —
But as they learn to see —
Either the Darkness alters —
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight —
And Life steps almost straight.
Moy Moy sent me out on this dark, dark road and I am determined to walk on it to the end. But I am limping today and maybe I always will. A little limp, a small hesitation. I am not who I once was. But I am one of the bravest, no matter how many trees I walk into.
I am hopeful. With Ravi and our children, their spouses and our friends, I’m adjusting to midnight. I’m stepping almost straight.
Showing 9 comments
  • Judith Skartvedt

    Heartwrenching, Jo! Sending hugs! Judy

  • Rajat


  • Meera shenoy

    You lay bare your emotions Jo…thanks for sharing. It is not easy for many

  • Monica

    Hugs and hugs Jo !!

  • Vishal

    Grief has its beauty Jo. Stay with it. It’s one way to love.

  • Shini

    You are an inspiration to a lot of parents Jo but this post just makes me cry.. I hope you gather and find strength for all Moy Moy stood for.. God be with you!

  • Patti Davis

    What a gift she is to you. And that can never die. ❤️

  • Jean Langlais

    How could you feel anything but sad? Thank you for articulating the pain of loss, Jo. Thinking of you.

  • hazel williamson

    Dear Jo this makes me feel so sad too as emotion is a strong feeling. Your words are a reminder that memories are precious, and with sadness comes gratitude. Sending much love to you and your family from us and ours, Hazel Williamson x

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