At 12 days out (Another check-in)

In hindsight, last week was simply an odd week.

I find that, at 12 days now after my dog died, life simply went back to normal once I got home from the conference. Other than a few moments here and there, once I stepped foot in my house it simply became "just" the death of a pet...which is a stark contrast to the first 20 hours or after I first got the news, when I was still in San Diego. Then, in the shock of my aloneness, the unexpectedness, the gruesome nature of his death, and the stunned, bizarre surreal nature of it all, it didn't really matter whether he was my pet or not; for those first 12 hours or so, it was simply that someone in my little, immediate family of 3--of Anna, me, and our dog--had died, someone that I loved very much and whom was a part of my daily security and "normal."

But once I got home, I had to be Mom. I had to attend to my scared, grieving-in-her-own-way daughter. By my surroundings alone, I went back to my usual normal.

And by late Thursday, I was sick of mourning for the damned dog.

Which sounds horrible. (And actually, I didn't know I was going to write that last sentence until it came out of my fingers.)

I was sick of walking on eggshells, tiptoeing around and being careful of what might set me off unexpectedly, what might set Anna off, where our shock and grief might show up next.

I had to do this careful land-mine walk for four long, fucking years before this, and frankly, I had little desire to do it again for very long. Tuesday was spent in a bit of a fog, running errands, letting grief and shock express itself in retail therapy, in letting someone else (errrr, a restaurant) take care of our immediate needs for food. Wednesday was spent being attentive to Anna and her grieving needs, working on a project for Chase.

And it was exhausting, once again living the way I'd been forced to live for the first three years or so after Charley died...being so cautious and cognizant of the spectre of a physical, tangible grief in our lives again.

Thursday, finally, was the more notable turning point. Which was well timed, because by that time I was mostly saying (screaming?) in my head, Enough already! Anna went more back to normal, was less fearful, less overreactive. On Friday we went back to normal schedules (whatever that actually does or doesn't mean in our loosey-goosey household). Playdates with friends, cousins spending the night, getting out and being social, staying in and relaxing over the weekend, Anna going to her grandparents on Monday night so I could go into work on Tuesday and Wednesday.

It was a relief to go back to normal.

Which doesn't mean I don't think about the dog from time to time, don't get a stabbing plunge of missing him and his warm, sweet body curled up next to me on the couch, in my bed, every now and then. But at this point, it's just missing him, feeling sad sometimes that he's not here to keep me company and greet me. It's not about his death or the nature of it (much) anymore; that part of my reaction has mostly passed. It's simply that he's not here anymore and I miss him...but they're more momentary reactions rather than a blanket status quo.

And in reality, it's not much different from the feelings I had two years ago, when I had to/chose to put my last cat to sleep when it was horribly, horribly ill. It was lonely then to have no pet in the house, to have no warm body wandering somewhere around the house when Anna was gone, so that I knew that technically I wasn't home all alone.

But now I'm really, truly alone again when I'm home and Anna isn't. And I don't like the sensation much...and a pet, and our daughter, have been the main ways to pretend to myself, to distract myself, that I'm not actually as alone as it feels sometimes. Which is often a big, fat coverup and lie...but isn't that why most people get pets? For companionship? To have someone something to talk to? A distraction? A reason to get up in the morning?

Fortunately, Anna gave her approval on Thursday that we could get a new dog anytime now. (Previously, she'd said she wanted to wait, that she didn't want to get a new dog yet.) Because I do plan to get another dog (and I planned to as soon as I heard the news; it was just a matter of when and how)...because I can't stand how empty the house is when I'm home alone....

And that's the more pressing emotion now...how empty my home--my life?--seems when all my other distractions are stripped away....