Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Back to normal



Our heartfelt thanks for your comments and emails about William. Most of you have never met us, or William, or been to Mucky Boots - it is an amazing thing to me that such caring and support can come across the ether.

We are feeling more peaceful about William's death, with just the occasional stumble to make us pause: vacuuming up the last of Williams' hair from the carpet, washing and putting away his water bowl, opening the back door and not realizing we were expecting to see him until we are surprised when he's not there. Petunia was out of sorts for a few days, but she knows how to demand a snuggle when she needs one. Mostly she, like us, is spending the bulk of these rainy, cold days in front of the wood stove. We are finding our way back to normal.

7 comments:

www.FarmLifeLessons.blogspot.com said...

I've found the blogging community to be uniquely brave and compassionate. People aren't necessarily "hiding" behind a farce when blogging; they are actually revealing precious parts of their lives and sharing the good and the bad, such as you have had to do recently. It makes us all know that we're not alone in this life journey that can sometimes be tough; I hope that the beautiful memories will sustain you through the hardest moments. That's another great thing about blogging, it's kind of like an electronic scrapbook where we can go back and revisit old photos and happenings that might have otherwise faded from the forefront of our memories.

I appreciate your tenderhearted sharing. Losing a family pet is something that tugs at most of us.

Lana

Natalie said...

Goodness... a lovely post, and a lovely reply from Lana: blogs are a marvelous gift.

Miriam said...

Lana, you have beautifully expressed something I have been trying to articulate for myself, about what writing this blog, and reading other people's, has come to mean to me.

And Natalie, how fitting that your comment came next, because I have been thinking of you the last hour or so as I try to write a post about injecting more whimsy into my gardening life - you are my role model!

Thank you both for being part of my community!

Flartus said...

Oh, yes, Lana has described it perfectly. I spend many many nights alone (well, with Rosie), and if it weren't for the "companionship" of my kind-hearted "blogger buddies," I think I would slowly go mad.

My parents lost their dog over a year and a half ago--we had kept him for about 9 months in 2003, in a different house and city. Yet there were still times in this house that I was surprised to not see him when I came home and opened the door. That's a perfect expression of the hole they leave in our lives--if we're doing it right. :)

Paula said...

Spend lots of time with Petunia. My neighbors across the street in Jacksonville were convinced that pets mourn each other, even across species. My experience has been that they are right.

~Kim at Golden Pines~ said...

Dearest Miriam, I am just getting caught up on blogs, and am so, so sad to see the post about your boy William. Having just lost Bubba on the 31st , I know the ache your hearts are feeling. While I know that I can't ease the pain of his loss, as you well know, that even though he's gone, William is really not that far away because he lives on in your hearts. I know you'll never entirely get over losing him because he was so intertwined within the fabric of your lives, but I hope you find comfort in all your memories of him that can never be taken away...Take care, and again, I'm so very sorry...

Shim Farm said...

I think Lana summed things up pretty well, too. Despite never having met each other, this so-called "virtual world" is very real to me, and I feel the magnitude of your loss in your post.

From the mundane to the life-changing, these are all important moments to preserve.

Your empathy and care comes through so beautifully in your posts, and I don't think anyone could not have been moved by your eloquent post about William. I know I was in tears - and that is the beauty of this virtual community. I'm not being moved by a faceless stranger, but instead I feel the pain of a friend I've never met.

I believe we're all tied together, call it cosmic voodoo if you will, and your care and love for the people, pets and plants around you resonates in your posts. May you find some semblance of comfort knowing that others share your pain.

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