Grief has hit.  I continue to learn how there is a protective barrier at first as we deal with what must be done.  We gather, eat, share, and then, there is the place of realizing they are not here.

Bella and Tiger were siblings. They shared a womb, though they had two different fathers.  Over 15 years ago, Chris and I went to the shelter, and there they were in the same cage with Tiger in front like a circus barker and Bella hiding in the back.  We were told Bella as a calico would always be aloof.  That was untrue.  

Last night grief hit and this morning I thought I couldn’t get out of bed.  My sacrum is sore and I try to visualize the lungs that are there, the movement, the place that connects heaven and earth and it’s a slow process.  I feel all my cells vibrating, like the apps on an Iphone when you push to make a change.  Yesterday I was cleaning out and putting away her things.  The waves she loved are set to give away.  Though she loved to rest in them, Tiger chooses instead to scratch his two tough cardboard models of the World Trade Center.  

I feel the physicality of adjusting to this loss.  She would be next to me in the chair but instead the chair is empty and bare.  I’m off-balance and tears fall.

Today in Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer’s poem “Porosity” she writes:

In a dream, I was told,

The body is permeable 

to life and to death.

She is grieving the loss of her son and though I may feel this grief is for Bella, as of course it is, it’s also grief for loss of mother, father, brother, cousin, and friends in all forms.

May I honor the openings and closings that embrace and expand porosity as I vibrate and shiver and moisten with tears the changes in grief.

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