Surviving the splinters

It was a feeling I will never forget. As I sat on the floor cradling Tony’s head as the paramedics calmly whispered to me “he’s gone”, I felt the sheets of glass snap into place around my heart, numbness enveloped me like wet clay. As long as the armour was in place, I could function. Sort of. I have never cried. Tears at the funeral yes but never broken down. I have shut that part of my emotions behind the glass shield, self- preservation I suppose. Until last week that is.

It was a week like any other week, work to do and mindless hours to fill yet something triggered the fractures. I felt as though shards of glass were splintering internally, every wall crumbling. I missed him so badly, I was breaking apart, the pain was indescribable. But I still didn’t cry. I’m not proud of the fact, just wondering why that despite the bone deep hurt I still couldn’t? What’s wrong with me?

One night I noticed Yogi Bear lying on the floor next to Callum’s bed. As Callum is in France at the moment, I wondered why Yogi hadn’t moved into my room as the rest of the dogs do so I went in to see if he was okay. He looked so sad. I picked him up and put him on my bed where he curled up on the pillow next to me and I realised why I have held everything together for so long. You see, Yogi was with Tony when he had the cardiac arrest but was immediately removed from the room. The same room that Callum has renovated into his own one. And now Callum has gone away. Yogi needs me, all of me, as do all my dogs. Dogs can’t blog, Facebook, chat over a pint about how they feel but they experience the same emotions as we do.

Oddly enough, the mid week meltdown turned out to be a somewhat ‘cleansing’ experience. Life gives you chances that you can either take or curl up and ignore. Being a widow plus 10 dogs isn’t going to get any easier any time soon but maybe it is time to let the glass break where it may, as long as I protect the paws and all……

“he will sleep on the cold ground where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely if only he be by his master’s side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer. He will lick the wounds and sores that come with encounter with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert he remains” (George G Vest 19th century American senator)