I knew my day was gonna be, um, off, to put it mildly by 7:30 am. I had been up for 30 minutes, had a good 8 ounces of coffee into me and I had yet to have a clear thought that didn't carry a huge lump in my throat quickly behind it.
So I attempted to busy myself. You know the theory....idle hands make for the devils workshop. So I hung the laundry in the near freezing morning. That task usually chippers me up but today, with my wide open deck gate and back fence gaping at me I was confronted by my loss. There is no need to ensure that these items are secured any more because we no longer have a dog in this house. It's been nearly two weeks and today it feels like a raw and unhealing hangnail.
In this state of mind I numbly attacked my linen closet next (idle hands, devils playground). That effort requires strong will and a sharp mind to make tough decisions regarding the dismantling and reconstruction of the currently near-useless shelves. One small bag of goodwill items later (and nearly an hour of fussing before that) I gave into my muddled mind and grieving heart. I made one rule for myself about today...I must make no major decisions and then let the wind of grief blow me wherever she may take me.
I took Daughter to school first (she skipped the morning due to a late night outing with her new boyfriend...it is hard to give out to her with that honours average, three university acceptances and three scholarships she's toting these days...). We shared a good laugh about my decision not to make any decisions today.
Then, in order to make the grief move faster, I went to the humane society. Hindsight is making me call it a grief 'enhancer', if you will. I actually had no idea why I went there other than to just feel something maybe. Luckily I made that rule (no major decisions) for myself before I left the house or else I likely would have taken Maya, the six year old spitz husky mix, home. I might go back for her tomorrow. There are no major decisions today. I went to the cat room at the pound and guiltily scratched a cat while chatting with a volunteer. I felt guilty because of my own affection starved cat at home.
Since I was already veering towards the east side of the city I thought I'd check out the restaurant where I'd hoped to get a bunch of friends together for a birthday Jiggs dinner. On my way out to the eastern location I cruised through streets I hadn't been through for awhile. It wasn't until I hit Coxwell that I realized I could swing by my family's first house in Toronto....very near Coxwell and the Danforth. My earliest memories are placed here and I tend to revisit the old homestead when I'm in the area. I think I've written about that before but I'm not gonna try and find it right now.
I expected the floodgate to open when I cruised down the street and spotted the freshly coloured front door. It was so cheery looking that I didn't even stop. That wasn't gonna serve my maudlin intentions at all! As I cruised by the house I made a minor decision...I thought I'd prod the grief a bit by parking directly in front of the house and let my mind free float. And there was nothing. Nothing but the wonder I felt at the enormous tree in the front of that house and how much energy that tree contains. As I grabbed a pic, for posterity (and my parents) I did not really take note of the rays of light in the the shot and how beautifully they peered through the tree. I felt a bit ripped off that the visit didn't do any purging but I carried on to find the restaurant. I easily found the now closed and rather seedy looking restaurant (unfortunately a bit too similar to some of the places my family has seen during tours around the Rock) and then returned home. I rode in silence and my mind felt a bit clearer.
I write this now after nourishing my body with leftovers from yet another meal made without my cooking companion. I ate the meal and peered at the picture (posted). I often used to call these shots with the rays of light that are placed just so, 'god shots'. Maybe I might start calling them Shamrock shots since she was a ray of light in my life. Gosh darn it, the floodgate opened, finally, and yet again. This grief thing bites. Large.
|First Toronto Hegarty Homestead|
Pic taken 2012. Hegarty Habitat from 1969-1973