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 leaving Moy Moy behind, in the past. I’m actively resisting. I don’t agree with time’s passage. 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
    Reply

    Heartwrenching, Jo! Sending hugs! Judy

  • Rajat
    Reply

    Optimistic

  • Meera shenoy
    Reply

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

  • Monica
    Reply

    Hugs and hugs Jo !!

  • Vishal
    Reply

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

  • Shini
    Reply

    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
    Reply

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

  • Jean Langlais
    Reply

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

  • hazel williamson
    Reply

    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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