Monday was a much better day for me, with gorgeous weather and a bit of a chance to relax.
...but what made the dog thing all worse was that I was feeling blue already, I think, having been thinking of and missing my paternal grandmother. I was already a bit sad and the dog thing gave me a jolt that made it impossible not to cry. I'm not generally a melancholy person, but I admit losing both my grandmothers in a 10 month period was definitely a 1-2 punch.
I almost never go to church, but went Sunday night (before the dog-icide) to see my mom and dad. The very first hymn they told us to turn to was one I'd sung at my dad's mom's funeral in April.
I am trained as a classical vocalist and almost no singing situation intimidates me. I sang 4 things at the funeral, and held it together until the very last line of the last song but couldn't sing the last 3 words. It was sort of like having a task in the service gave me a purpose to focus on, and singing for my grandma was a way of honoring all she means to me, and what an absolute saint she was.
However, Sunday night, I could barely breathe as that song brought it all back. About halfway through the hymn, safely ensconced in a sea of voices, I managed to squeak along, but it's amazing that after 5 months it all seems too fresh. I mentioned this to dad, and he said that wasn't lost on him, either, that he'd been affected by the memory, too.
We went to dinner after the service and then over to my folks' house, and dad talked quite a bit about his mom, about what an incredible soul she is, about how she's the kind of person we should all aspire to be. Too true.
I also thought of my mom, losing her own dear mother when she was just 14, and at that age, you don't what life is, really, and you haven't begun to get enough of all you're going to need from your folks. Mom said it was decades before she could hear the song from her mom's funeral without crying.
And let's face it, there's no good time to ever lose the real-life angels you've been blessed to know.
I guess I'm really rambling here. I think part of the abiding need I have for my dog is that the dynamic between master and dog is always like when you have the tickly little baby and blow a raspberry on its belly - it's just sweet and innocent and no words are really necessary.
With the people we love, though, it's too too much. The rib-bursting enormity of feeling is agonizing and it's complex and devastating and buoying and elevating--too much so to ever adequately convey.
I'm thankful for her and for the man she inspired my dad to be. She was gracious, kind and generous. She was the soft answer that turned away wrath. She was loving, steady and constant, and it's so ironic that the quietest, most unassuming person in the family leaves the most gaping hole by her departure.
I will always miss her, but I'm thankful I had her for so long.
Anyway, as I said, I'm feeling much much better. I have real gratitude for my life and my grandma, and I forgive the poor wayward person who ran over the dog. I'm sure they were upset by it, too, and I hope they'll just be more careful in future.