I've been away from here again, but for a good reason. Three weeks ago I took the plunge and got a puppy. I moved from the home my late husband and I shared in Wester Ross in Scotland's northwest to Argyll and Bute to be near family. My cat did not take the move well and I had to rehome her. She was miserable and, even more crucial, both my son-in-law and granddaughter were very allergic to her. I was able to find her a great home and her new family keep me up to date with her antics. But between December and three weeks ago, I felt more lonely than ever. So, a puppy. Now, this is a real challenge for me because I'm in a wheelchair, but I knew I needed a purpose and a reason to get up in the morning. My little Pomeranian/Chihuahua mix gives me that. It helps. But, of course, grief is an ever-present emotion here. But Roxie (the puppy) makes it a little more bearable.
I had a kind of breakthrough the other night. I was watching the BBC programme "Grand Tour of Scotland's Lochs" and it was showcasing the area just north of where we lived. The episode ended with the host standing atop Stac Pollaidh, looking down on the incredible views. And I felt so sad. Chris and I used to travel that area so often. We loved to drive up and along the farthest north coast from Durness to the Kyle of Tongue. There were areas that seemed uninhabited had it not been for the road. It was magical. We spent so much of our time exploring Scotland's hidden corners. We would often drive to Skye or drive along through the glen to view the Five Sisters of Kintail. We found our time here to be so wonderful. But then, as his health declined, we had to stay closer to home, and then just to stay home. As I watched that programme, I felt so sad about never seeing those areas again. Even if I did, they wouldn't be the same without Chris. But then, I had an epiphany of sorts. Why was I allowing myself to be so sorrowful about what was no longer? Instead, shouldn't I concentrate in rejoicing at what we did have? That makes so much more sense, doesn't it? And I've tried to remember that every day. That while I don't have the life I had with Chris anymore, I did have a wonderful life with him and no one can take that away from me. I have my memories and photographs and they give me such great joy, remembering all our traveling shenanigans. Like love, those memories will last forever.
Emboldened by the decision to try to take each day as an opportunity to celebrate the life I've led rather than mourn the life that is no more, I made another decision. I booked a Paris and Versailles holiday for next May through an agency that specialises in accessible holiday. Chris and I always wanted a long weekend or a week in Paris together (we had both been separately on several occasions). When we were both in relatively good health, we simply couldn't afford it. And once we could afford it, our health, and particularly his health, meant that the trip would remain untaken. So, next May when I go to Paris, I will go for both of us. I will miss him, knowing he isn't there to share in it. But I know this is what he would want me to do. He made me promise to be happy. It's a tall order. I'm doing my best. But, as you all know, it is still very, very hard to put on a smile when the greatest love of your life is gone. But I have to remember, at least I had that time with him and meeting him and marrying him were the most amazingly wonderful things that ever happened to me. I have to rejoice with the thought of what I've had and not mourn what I can't have now.
Good morning Martha,
Couldn't read your post and not do quick reply, it is 3am.
I too got puppy, he is back with his breeder for a few days as I am away. It's my birthday today and today marks the day Rob first started to feel unwell a year ago. What a difference a year makes, he died 19th Jan.
So here I am in a B and B on my own, on the East coast, but I have done it.
Thank you for your post, even though I don't always reply I want you to know I am here reading and how much your and everyone posts means thank you.
Love Donna x
