Elusive Comfort

Tired and drained I thought I would go to sleep early.  I even took Jessy into bed with me. Her breathing is loud and labored.  In time, she settled down.  I thought she was going to have a heart attack her chest was pounding so. Then she drifted off to sleep.  Off alone.  Not the way she is usually cuddled under my arm.  But then, it has been a few years since I allowed her in bed. 

She can't get up or down easily anymore.  Mostly, that is why I put her and her sister in the utility room.  I just sent her outside and now she is fast asleep in the utility room.  On the bare floor.  She didn't want her bed tonight.  She does that often. I suspect it is because her chest is so large now, that she just can't find a comfortable position. 

Like Jessy, I want comfort and it won't come.  When a friend called today, she told me  she would come to the veterinarians with me.  This is a woman who also lost her husband a while ago.  She mourns about all of them.  Still.

We don't ever get over loss. We do learn to deal with it.  To feel it fully and let go.  To feel all of the things we feel in relationships - the happy and the sad.  The times we threw up our hands and couldn't get where we wanted.  I am learning to let go. 

I couldn't help my dog.  I can't help this one.  I can't stop the pain with my children or my friends.  I can be a witness to their life.  Maybe in the end, that is all we need to do.

For as long as I can remember, I have been self-reliant.  When we are young, in our twenties and thirties we don't think we are.  Then all of a sudden we get it.  We know we can manage because we have been doing that all of our lives. Self-reliance means you never ask for help. It doesn't occur to you. 

I find comfort in nature.  With my friends. Holding hands. Cooking.Talking. But I can't talk anymore tonight.  I can't cry anymore.  I can let all of this settle.  Comfort comes when we allow it.