Someone to watch over me

The best thing about changing from Daylight Savings back to Standard time is hopping out of bed in the morning. It's light and still early. I feel like I can attack the day head on.  No alarm clock is necessary because it already feels decadently late after all those dark mornings before the time changed.  Between the new dog and the bright mornings I have done more before 8AM this week than I have in months.

This morning that changed just a bit. Georgie started barking at something around 5:15. Steve got up to investigate and I went back to sleep. I realized Steve had been gone for a while and started to worry. (Not enough to get up, mind you, but enough not to sleep.)  I heard him come back up the stairs and asked what was up. He said, "Nothing as far as I can tell, I think she heard the coffee pot go on."  I responded, "well then she is really going to keep us safe."

I tried to settle back to sleep when I found myself wondering why the coffee pot would go on so early, but decided I forgot to set the clock back on the coffee maker and it started at 5:15 instead of 6:15.  I debated whether I should get up to get that first cup from the fresh pot deliciousness, but figured it would still be pretty good in an hour. But going back to sleep was not in the cards just yet.

The dog came back upstairs clinking her over sized dog tag they gave us at the rescue. She wandered into the room and then out and back down the stairs. She repeated this several times, finally coming over to my side. I realized she was looking for Steve. He had opened the back door for her and then returned upstairs while she was outside. I told her everything was OK and to go lay down, but she was getting frantic so I told Steve to say something. As soon as he said, "I'm right here Georgie," she went over to her bed and went back to sleep. I started laughing and said to Steve we've really got someone watching over us now.

Again I toyed with the idea of just getting up, but didn't. I grabbed the ipad and started to play words with friends, but I fell asleep with my glasses on and the ipad wide opened on my bed.  The next thing I knew Steve's alarm went off at 6:45. It scared the bejesus out of me. I never wake up to an alarm because my internal clock is so set, but the hijinx of the early morning knocked me off my game.

My first reaction was panic because I thought I had to get Maggie all ready for the bus and I was late. (And that's the first time that has happened.) That turned to a bit of sadness as reality set in. No bus was coming. Strangely, though, the sadness was mixed with a bit of relief that I wasn't late for anything - except my perfect cup of coffee.

I always have a piping hot cup the second the pot is ready because I am always up. Generally I don't have it together to make it the night before and set the timer, so I wait (impatiently) for the pot to finish and pour a cup the moment it's ready. Today I got up and had that cup of coffee that had now been sitting for almost 90 minutes. It was OK but not the same.   Nothing is the same.

As I drank my coffee this morning and missed my girl,  I ruminated over the events of the past few hours. I thought OK, that was a weird chain of events. We still had a version of morning madness, but completely different from those with Maggie.

I missed the craziness of my mornings with Maggie and the relief I felt as the bus pulled away and the day was mine. I loved how quiet the house was when I went back inside after the bus left, but I hate that same quietness now.

Then I had to smile a little because our house was anything but quiet this morning. The ruckus was different from before, but there was indeed ruckus. Apparently the coffee pot makes enough noise to bother the dog who made plenty of noise for us and then patrolled non stop until he found Steve. We are safe and protected by this sweet animal. Maggie is watching over us from above and Georgie is taking care of the house.

As nice as that is, I'm still going to reset the clock on the coffee pot. One morning like that is enough.

Here Joy, c'mon joy...

The past year has been the most difficult of our lives. By far. 1994-96 was rough, 2007 and 2010 were tough, but 2014 takes the cake. Losing Maggie is, of course,  is the defining moment of this year and of our lives to date. But it came amidst so much other turmoil...

Steve's dad was ill and in and out of the hospital and finally had to go into assisted living. Steve hurt himself caring for his dad and needed surgery. Tim was in a terrible car accident on Memorial Weekend but was fortunate to come through it with only a slight concussion. And then Brisco the 16 year old wonder dog -- who spent every single night from the time Maggie went into the hospital sleeping at the doorway of her room -- suddenly died on 4th of July weekend. (I really don't care for Holiday weekends this year)

Steve and his siblings made the difficult decision to sell their parents hours and spent the summer cleaning it out and getting it ready to sell. That was very emotional for all and they did an incredible amount of work. But we marveled at their cousin Russ who did an amazing makeover to that house and got it ready to sell. It sold in a flash and now Steve, his brother and sister can focus on what their dad needs and wants instead of worrying about the house and the things in it.

It wasn't like we cornered the market on sadness either.  Other family members had scary illnesses and one of my cousins died suddenly of a heart attack. Maggie's friend Tyre passed away making us so very sad again.

To have all these things happen in a single year is incredible. Of course, when you are already in sadness and grief, as we are, it is easy to see all the dark things. It is harder to find the joy.

The best description I can give for grief is heaviness. It feels like a weight is on your shoulders and in your arms and gravity is working at double strength. All of these other things add to that heaviness and we found ourselves trudging along. We needed some lightness to balance out the heaviness.

The easiest thing to do is to climb into bed and pull the blankets up over your head. But you can't do that. You have to go on. You have to. If you don't, the sadness and darkness wins. You can't stay mired in sadness forever. You have to move forward. It is incredibly difficult, but you have to make yourself do it. You have to find some sort of joy however you can or you will be stuck.

At first you don't want to. It feels like a betrayal. You are supposed to be sad. Losing Maggie is worth being sad about. It is. And I will be sad about that for the rest of my life, but I cannot live in constant sadness. After so many months, I know we have to let in a little bit more light. I also know I am not betraying Maggie. She was the definition of joy and I honor her more by adopting her way of thinking.

So we went on a search for lightness and joy. We took an amazing trip to London and Ireland. We saw so much beauty and met so many kind people that we walked a little lighter for a while. Then we came home and back to reality, and the heaviness was waiting for us. But now we know that the lightness is possible and continue to look for it wherever we can find it -- and that's not a bad way to go through life. We went to a wedding at the end of September that was so filled with joy that it carried us for days. If we can find a few more things like that we will eventually find our balance.

We took another step toward happy on Saturday. We adopted a dog. She's a year old border collie/lab mix full of energy and life. Her name is Georgie and she's a beauty.

 It's funny though, we went up to Big Dog Rescue with the intention of getting a different dog, but that dog wasn't a fit for us. He was sort of sad and mopey. We didn't discuss it, but we both knew that wasn't the dog for us.  We needed happy. Georgie is energetic and needs walks and wants the tennis ball thrown 1000 times a day. She is hilarious and will get us out of the house and into the park more often.

Lots more joy in the park. And it's easier to find if I'm out looking for it.





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