So many thoughts running through my head I don't know where to start or what I really want to share. All I really know for sure is that the world around us didn't stop when Ginger left us, but my heart did. It no longer beats on it's previous frequency. That was a two part frequency, just she and I, and it was the base that sustained me. Humans were meant to go about this life in pairs and I think God created dogs to fill in the gaps. There are no purer spirits, no human could ever give more than a true and loyal dog.
I think Buntah shared in one of her last posts that everything felt off balance. She's right. Without purposeful consciousness, the three remaining ladies of the house are re-distributing weight, trying to fill a gaping void. The void will never be filled so maybe it's better to say we are trying to reach one another over it, perhaps build a bridge.
I'm certain God had a hand in the timing of Ginger's passing. Pip was out of school the entire week for some sort of district vacation. We were free to grieve as we needed. The first two days were anguish. A couple of dear friends watched over us and made sure we had food. Into the third day we decided we needed a project, something Ginger would approve of. We decided to plant more flowers on our patio and get rid of a rickety old love seat. We spent three days visiting local nurseries, researching what we wanted to plant and then breaking/tearing apart the the patio love seat. We spent two days filling and arranging 10 new planters. We now have beautiful flowers and bright colors greeting us each day. Ginger would approve. And one of the plants she picked herself. It's called "The Happy Wanderer". It wasn't on our list, we hadn't researched it but the minute we saw it we knew it was for her.
This was my first experience with the cremation of a loved one. I didn't know what to expect. The idea of cremation has always bothered me. The body is sacred and precious. Ginger's little body was/is precious. Circumstances I won't go into left us with no other choice for her. I am of a Christian faith and believe in life after death. I believe the spirit leaves the body when its time and goes wherever spirits go until the day all living things will be resurrected. I also believe in angels and that some spirits never go very far. I'm not sure why I need to share this part, I just know I do. Until this last Thursday, 11 days after I watched the body of my sweet dear friend being carried out of the room, I was lost and seriously didn't think I would make it. I couldn't think, I couldn't feel, I could hardly move. I was drowning without any substance to drown in - make sense? But even more disturbing than that for me was the fact I couldn't feel Ginger's spirit. Everything was cold to me from the inside out. I've always been energetically sensitive and receptive. Mostly that's been a good thing. But this time, when I needed it most I felt nothing. I felt no Ginger. I began worrying and questioning my own beliefs. Where was she?! Why didn't I feel her? This was so off for me. Was my grief so deep nothing or no one could reach me? That's what I finally decided had to be going on.
In life, Ginger was no small dog. Her average weight was 34 pounds, her back reached above my knee. I had struggled with the weight and size of her when I carried her into the vet clinic 11 days earlier. Thursday afternoon and here we were agin to pick up her ashes. Carly expressed her sorrow then went to get Ginger. When she returned she was cradling a small 4x6 inch cedar box. She handed me the box. It was surprisingly heavy for it's size. That's it? That's all that's left of my baby? I felt panic brewing in my gut but it never took me over - there wasn't time. There wasn't time because I was overcome with Ginger - her spirit bounded at me, her energy, her smile, her whole body wag, tail wagging with joy. I could feel her so strongly - bouncing around us, jumping up on me and singing like she used to when she was young and still could. She was so happy to see us and she was anxious to go home (she never did like the vet). I felt relief. She may be in two separate spaces now but she is no longer absent. I think I understand why I didn't feel her spirit for all those days. I think she didn't want to leave her body in that place unattended. She was confused about why I had left her behind. I think she wanted to watch over her body since I wasn't there with it and that's alright by me. I'm glad she was.
Since we brought her home she has pretty much remained. At first she burst through the door, circled every room at high speed, said Hi to Buntah then stuck to me like invisible glue. I could feel her joy at being reunited with us. I felt joy to have her back. She wasn't happy about her body being cremated, she didn't understand why I would do that to her. I explained the reasoning behind the decision and she forgave me - which I needed.
The small box holding her ashes is on a shelf between books near the foot of my bed. In the days since we brought her home her spirit has calmed down a bit, I can feel her and the adjustments she is having to make. Which also surprised me. Today, I felt her missing her body and all the wonderful things it allowed her to do, like lay beside me, like running and jumping and licking our faces. She can see me emptying a chicken crock-pot, she can smell it but she can't lick it out. And barking, she misses being able to bark and feel the wind and rain on her face. She can see the grass and flowers but she can't feel them. All the emotional and intellectual reactions and interactions are there, but the tactile experience is not. It's weird she says - and disappointing. I talked to her, I told her there would be a day when she would have her beautiful body back. I told her there would be a day when we would join her. I felt her relief. I told her we'd be alright if she wanted to go hang with others like her until that day. "Thanks but no thanks," she said, "I think I'll stay right here with you for now." Maybe she needs to ease into her next place as well. And today I was able to look at pictures of her and smile, a full-on warm whole-body smile without tears.
I think Buntah shared in one of her last posts that everything felt off balance. She's right. Without purposeful consciousness, the three remaining ladies of the house are re-distributing weight, trying to fill a gaping void. The void will never be filled so maybe it's better to say we are trying to reach one another over it, perhaps build a bridge.
I'm certain God had a hand in the timing of Ginger's passing. Pip was out of school the entire week for some sort of district vacation. We were free to grieve as we needed. The first two days were anguish. A couple of dear friends watched over us and made sure we had food. Into the third day we decided we needed a project, something Ginger would approve of. We decided to plant more flowers on our patio and get rid of a rickety old love seat. We spent three days visiting local nurseries, researching what we wanted to plant and then breaking/tearing apart the the patio love seat. We spent two days filling and arranging 10 new planters. We now have beautiful flowers and bright colors greeting us each day. Ginger would approve. And one of the plants she picked herself. It's called "The Happy Wanderer". It wasn't on our list, we hadn't researched it but the minute we saw it we knew it was for her.
This was my first experience with the cremation of a loved one. I didn't know what to expect. The idea of cremation has always bothered me. The body is sacred and precious. Ginger's little body was/is precious. Circumstances I won't go into left us with no other choice for her. I am of a Christian faith and believe in life after death. I believe the spirit leaves the body when its time and goes wherever spirits go until the day all living things will be resurrected. I also believe in angels and that some spirits never go very far. I'm not sure why I need to share this part, I just know I do. Until this last Thursday, 11 days after I watched the body of my sweet dear friend being carried out of the room, I was lost and seriously didn't think I would make it. I couldn't think, I couldn't feel, I could hardly move. I was drowning without any substance to drown in - make sense? But even more disturbing than that for me was the fact I couldn't feel Ginger's spirit. Everything was cold to me from the inside out. I've always been energetically sensitive and receptive. Mostly that's been a good thing. But this time, when I needed it most I felt nothing. I felt no Ginger. I began worrying and questioning my own beliefs. Where was she?! Why didn't I feel her? This was so off for me. Was my grief so deep nothing or no one could reach me? That's what I finally decided had to be going on.
In life, Ginger was no small dog. Her average weight was 34 pounds, her back reached above my knee. I had struggled with the weight and size of her when I carried her into the vet clinic 11 days earlier. Thursday afternoon and here we were agin to pick up her ashes. Carly expressed her sorrow then went to get Ginger. When she returned she was cradling a small 4x6 inch cedar box. She handed me the box. It was surprisingly heavy for it's size. That's it? That's all that's left of my baby? I felt panic brewing in my gut but it never took me over - there wasn't time. There wasn't time because I was overcome with Ginger - her spirit bounded at me, her energy, her smile, her whole body wag, tail wagging with joy. I could feel her so strongly - bouncing around us, jumping up on me and singing like she used to when she was young and still could. She was so happy to see us and she was anxious to go home (she never did like the vet). I felt relief. She may be in two separate spaces now but she is no longer absent. I think I understand why I didn't feel her spirit for all those days. I think she didn't want to leave her body in that place unattended. She was confused about why I had left her behind. I think she wanted to watch over her body since I wasn't there with it and that's alright by me. I'm glad she was.
Since we brought her home she has pretty much remained. At first she burst through the door, circled every room at high speed, said Hi to Buntah then stuck to me like invisible glue. I could feel her joy at being reunited with us. I felt joy to have her back. She wasn't happy about her body being cremated, she didn't understand why I would do that to her. I explained the reasoning behind the decision and she forgave me - which I needed.
The small box holding her ashes is on a shelf between books near the foot of my bed. In the days since we brought her home her spirit has calmed down a bit, I can feel her and the adjustments she is having to make. Which also surprised me. Today, I felt her missing her body and all the wonderful things it allowed her to do, like lay beside me, like running and jumping and licking our faces. She can see me emptying a chicken crock-pot, she can smell it but she can't lick it out. And barking, she misses being able to bark and feel the wind and rain on her face. She can see the grass and flowers but she can't feel them. All the emotional and intellectual reactions and interactions are there, but the tactile experience is not. It's weird she says - and disappointing. I talked to her, I told her there would be a day when she would have her beautiful body back. I told her there would be a day when we would join her. I felt her relief. I told her we'd be alright if she wanted to go hang with others like her until that day. "Thanks but no thanks," she said, "I think I'll stay right here with you for now." Maybe she needs to ease into her next place as well. And today I was able to look at pictures of her and smile, a full-on warm whole-body smile without tears.