The Days After Hershey

Warning! This post may be difficult for some people to read, especially if you're experiencing grief yourself.  And yet, if you're able to get beyond the sadness there's always hope.


That day ...
                  Did that really happen?  Did I just spend a whole incredibly awful and nerve-wracking day only for it to end even worse, like some fucking rancid cherry on top?
                  Emotions and memories got all tangled and jumbled up. As I held his furry frame close to me, cooed softly to him, and stroked his paw and head, memories of my mother and of Rob came to me.  Sitting with my mother in the hospital, waiting, waiting for the inevitable end. Rob, almost thankfully, had already passed when I had arrived.

Later ...
              Food?  My stomach felt both full and empty at the same time.  Must I eat? I must. I know that I must eat in order to survive.  I must survive not only for myself but for people who love me and depend upon me.
             Emailing, scheduling my employees, doing the payroll, and training a new person - it all seemed too much to handle! And yet, I did it all because of the reasons mentioned above. I also finished the three paintings that I had been commissioned to do for a show next weekend.  Plus, I went to the St. Lawrence Market two days after Hershey's death.
             Life continues to go on no matter what.

Counselling day  ...
                                 A torrent of tears fell from my eyes as I tried to unravel and understand the emotional mess I was feeling.  Like my mother and Rob, Hershey had emotionally branded me as his. I felt torn up inside: sad, angry ... lost.
                                 All of my anchors were gone.
                                 Afterwards, I had a lemon loaf and a frappuccino with Alana at Starbucks and that cheered me up a little.
                                 Brittainy and I had dinner at Sambuca's, and that made me even more happy, especially since an old friend of mine, whom I hadn't seen in ages, came up to our table and started reminiscing about the first time we had met twenty years ago.
                                 Memories of that particular evening, from ages past, flooded my mind, and I found myself smiling and chuckling.  I remember I had been selling my note cards to people all up and down Church St. That's when I met Paddy.  She had bought a package of cards, and she and her friends liked me so much they took me out drinking.  I don't think they had ever assisted a person to get drunk before because they called Rob as soon as I started coughing a bit.  Rob, in his usual matter-of-fact tone, said, "Yeah, she does that.  It's nothing to worry about."


(Part II will come later.  I'm tired ....)