Category Archives: Big Feelings

Home or not?

Big Feelings, Travel, Uncategorized

I’m sitting here at Sea-Tac, looking over at gate S9 for an aircraft that is not there. If things had gone according to schedule, I would have been in the air already for a good 30 minutes, on my way back to the Netherlands. However, when there is no inbound aircraft, you’re kind of going to have to just accept that the only seat you will be in for the moment is the one bolted to the floor in the universally uncomfortable airport seating.

In this digital age, we tend to expect that everything can be electronic. The state of Washington seems to be the exception to that rule and I had to come back to pick some important documents that they would only issue on paper and mail. I arrived late Saturday (as in two days ago) and stayed 5 blocks from my old house in someone’s garage Air BNB.

Since this trip was already costing me enough money, I made the resolution to get around only via public transit. Bargain wise, definitely a good thing. I spent a grand total of $18.75 getting around. Of course, I also gave up hours to do this. This morning, it was 55 minutes to go 6 miles with the bus. If I had walked it, it would have taken me the same amount of time. I have a new found appreciation for the investment that European countries make in their public transit infrastructure. I had the luxury of spending the time because I didn’t have to go to work or pickup my kids or any other serious task.

Not wanting to be an extravagant transit spender, I also did a lot of foot travel. I wanted to see and experience Seattle from the pavement. I also wanted to test my European daily habits and see if they worked in Seattle. The results were mixed. Daily grocery shopping would be a nightmare here as stores are enormous. Besides if you are going everywhere on foot, there’s a limit to how much you can carry. My bike would have been an excellent option here.

I noticed how people rate dogs. The first time I passed a group of people doing it, I thought it was unique to their circumstances. Then as I was navigating the crowds in the Sunday Farmer’s Market, I noticed lots of people were doing it. The conversation references certain dogs that are walking around, compares their traits and appearance to dogs seen earlier and then there is an evaluation if that’s one they should put on the list to get. I had heard the statistic that there are more dogs than school age children in Seattle. If I had dogs, I would think twice about leaving them alone. I mean, Henry and George had an exceptionally high attraction factor and they were also really nice dogs. They could have been grabbed in a heartbeat. While there are many dogs here, they also seem to be very reactive. Their owners are attentive but the dogs themselves react to other dogs. Perhaps that is due to isolation from the COVID time? I know in the Netherlands it is a problem for dogs that people got during that time. They are undersocialized.

I was also struck by how chilly Seattle is. I think I have gotten used to the extravagant extroversion of the Dutch. When you are walking on the sidewalk, people to do not walk past you, they cross to the other side. Or they don’t make eye contact. Super weird. The whole social power dynamic seems out of balance. What is with ending all your sentences on an uplift like you are uncertain of what you are saying?

I don’t know if I will stay in the Netherlands for the rest of my life. I don’t know that Seattle would be somewhere I could return to and do well living there. I think I might have a little too much raw energy for the mellow Pacific Northwest. 😉

Apparently they found an aircraft and we are going to start boarding. Next stop, the land of Dutch directness.

Muffled

Big Feelings, Pets

That’s how I feel today. Everything feels far away and like it is too much effort to even try. I am not used to feeling like this.

It’s George’s birthday today. The first one without him. What I realized early this morning when I couldn’t sleep was that this year all of our birthdays, our first birthdays without each other, were on Saturdays. That struck me as unfair. If Saturdays are the ultimate day to have your birthday on, why in the year that it would be so for all of us, would we not be able to celebrate them together??

I know, of course, that dogs can tell time but don’t care about days of the week. They don’t care when their birthday actually takes place, they just care about being around the people that that they loved. The hamburgers and presents for them to unwrap were just a bonus. The singing of “Happy Birthday” offtune probably damaging to their sensitive hearing.

Since last Saturday, Henry’s birthday, I’ve felt this whole week like I just wanted to give up, to retreat from everything and hide. I didn’t let myself do that. If anything, I pushed myself even harder, to be present, to be overscheduled and to be overstimulated. Like if you are already feeling uncomfortable, can you push through to a maximum of discomfort so you just stop feeling that way? Like spiking a fever.

That’s not working anymore today. I feel like giving up. Maybe that is why I am drinking tea instead of coffee. To do this in the middle of the day, as I believe tea has it’s place but not during the day, is a sign that I am in deep trouble with myself.

I wonder to myself if I felt this way when the boys were still alive? Or did they keep me firmly anchored? Was it because of them that I always managed to get up and power through? When I felt at my most frustrated, did I come out of those dark moments because I had them nearby and they were happy with me exactly as I was? How much of my ability to emotionally regulate was based on my relationship with two loving small dogs?

I feel so empty. I feel like I want to disppear and stop giving a shit about all of the things I am trying to change in the world. I feel like I don’t care anymore. I feel like there is no point in caring anymore. I feel without hope. This is hard for me to acknowledge and even say out loud. Yet there it is. I have lost my indestructible sense of optimism. Or at the very least, misplaced it somewhere that I am not able to find it.

Crawling my way through

Big Feelings, Pets

This year of firsts. You know the year I mean. The one that starts the day you lose a loved one. The first day, then week, then month without them. The first birthday, yours or their’s, that you face. All the first times you go somewhere without them.

I have been doing that. I can’t say that I have been doing it very gracefully or with a high level of documentation. Primarily, it’s been trying to give myself the room to be sad, to miss my boys and to be okay with the fact that there are still tears.

Yesterday was Henry’s birthday. I woke up early yesterday morning, hours before the alarm to talk to him and to cry. The best time for me to cry is when the whole household is asleep. I knew that if I didn’t do that, it would be hanging over me like a cloud for the rest of the day and yesterday, I needed to be high functioning as I was speaking at an event.

I try to keep them close to me. I still hold George’s last blanket up to my face every night before I go to bed and first thing in the morning, to breathe in his smell. It’s fading and I know it. Henry’s little t-shirts are ducked into my drawer and they still smell like him. Last weekend, I cut open my arm from the work we were doing to build horse stalls. I reached for the Vetramil and smeared it on the cut, knowing that if had been good enough for Henry’s skin, it would be for mine as well. And mostly because I wanted to be reminded of the smell.

I skipped my birthday this year because there was nothing I wanted to celebrate. I chose instead to make the promise to myself that when I feel like celebrating it, I’ll just choose the day. For so many years, my birthday meant going away with the dogs to somewhere where they could be free and I could pretend to relax.

In some ways, I am getting better. I don’t cross the streets anymore to avoid walking past someone and their dog. Last week, I held a small dog in my arms until he fell asleep. I can spend time around dogs. I give the cats the attention they ask for, instead of trying to keep them at a distance. This is hard because they have all needed to adjust as well and now they are much more people oriented. Sometimes I wake up in the night thinking it is the boys that are sleeping next to me. Instead it’s Pickle or Olive if it’s really chilly. In that moment of half awareness, I think that the boys are still here and it’s just been a horrible dream.

I know that this will just take time and I cannot problem solve for it. While I haven’t slowed down, I also know that I can’t come through this by simply keeping myself so busy I don’t have time to think or feel. So I am not. While I typed that last sentence, Pickle just climbed up into my lap and is now hanging diagonally across my chest with his head over my shoulder. Glad he is comfortable!

Together again, George 2005-2023

Big Feelings, Pets

On the 20th of January 2023, eighty five days after losing our Henry, George slipped away in my arms. I thought we would have more time together. I thought that we would find our way through the grief of losing his brother and that we would start to make new memories.

But grief does strange things to bodies and out of nowhere and quickly, tumours had taken control of George’s little body. They were everywhere and aggressive. Suddenly he just stopped to responding to things.

He took his last breath in my arms, held close with the carefully repeated instructions to go and find his brother. That Henry would be waiting for him. With his passing, my last living link to my family as I constructed it was severed.

Henry and George spent the first 12 weeks of their lives living separately. And the last twelve weeks. The sixteen years, ten months and twenty four days between those two periods, they were never apart. As much as I loved them, their bond with each other was even greater. .

George was our adventurer. He wasn’t shy about making contact with people, especially if there were treats involved. He was an expert at getting zippers and bags open without anyone hearing him. He could liberate your lunch and have half of it eaten before you even noticed there was something going on. In my Lab, I had to buy replacement lunches for people more than once out of George’s allowance.

George was my Mom’s dog. He was crazy about her. When she was making her big plans to move to Ecuador, she told me that she would be taking George with her because he would easily adapt to learning Spanish and would be fine with a new environment. She wasn’t asking me, she was telling me. She was already getting him use to the sound of Jorge instead of George.

George was Raven’s companion. Raven was convinced that because they were both from Yakima, they had an instant friendship and a shared history. Watching them compete to find Easter eggs and to see who could find the most remains one of my favorite memories. The stinky egg farts afterwards from them both, not so much.

George lost both of them, we all did. But for him, they were primary. I felt sometimes that George got stuck with me because I was the one left. I felt guilty too because I loved them both but not the same. With time, I learned to let that go because I loved them enough for six people. Since they have been gone, many people have told me that they have a hard time thinking of me without them. For them, there was no me without Henry and George.

That is the hardest part to adjust to. That after all this time, I am not a We anymore. I am only an I because my boys are together again and without me. I know that grief is the result of love that you feel. But it sucks. I am struggling to find my way through this loss, one hour at a time.

To my little George, so named after Boy George, for your love for attention and outgoing personality, thank you for your love and patience. Thank you for giving me a reason to get up even when the hard days were happening. Thank you for giving me your trust and going anywhere we did. Thank you for loving your brother so much and helping us get through those first terrible days without him. Thank you for the horrible farts you would let loose in the car. Thank you for always being eager to go in the bath and letting us brush your teeth with such ease. Thank you for always wanting to be one inch closer than your brother when there were blankets involved. Thank you for showing me how much joy there is in the life of a small dog. I am missing you terribly. Most of all, I hope you know how much I love you.

For now, I hope you are with Henry. I hope you will be waiting for me. Sleep well, my darlings.

Henry 2005-2022

Big Feelings, Pets

Precisely one month ago today, our Henry’s mighty steady heart was quieted. I held him as he went still with instructions for him to go and find Mom and Raven, to be sure to wait for me and to know that he would never stop being loved. It was as peaceful and as loving as we could make it for him, at home. His strong heart held out for seventeen years and thirty four days.

The month that has passed hasn’t made the loss any lighter. As I write this, the tears are right there again. I met Henry when he was six weeks old, literally only a handful. I wasn’t looking for a small dog or even a dog at all. I was only there to help socialize the litter of puppies so that they would be ready for their real homes. Three weeks later, I left the socialization sessions with Henry. A month later, we would pick up George from across the mountains but that story is for another time.

Henry, named after Henry Rollins, was my rock. People made the mistake of thinking he was slow or not capable. I cannot tell you how many dogsitters he fooled with his approach to walks. Henry was neither of those things, he was determined and deliberate. The amount of stubborn resistance that he could pack into his 14 pound body was impressive. It was dwarfed by the immense amount of love he gave.

If Henry liked you, it was permanent. He would take his time deciding about you and once he did, you either had a fan for life or not. He could not even be persuaded to change his mind with the application of treats. His moral compass was fully operational. He had a bark that he seldom used but when he did, it was as if it came from 100 pound dog – which was quite useful when people rang the doorbell.

We’re all lost without the center of our family. With all of the rest of us, two footed and four, being busy and stressed, Henry was the Zen. The cats loved being near him. He was George’s therapy dog and at night, he slept between us. We are still missing him in our day to day routines. I am also not yet able to stop saying “The dogs” instead of “The dog”. I don’t know when I will be able to make that transition.

I haven’t wanted to write about it because that would make it so final. Just like picking up his ashes will. I have to remember that there is so much grief because there was so much love. Especially that he gave to all of us.

To my small and stubborn Henry, the heart of our pack, thank you for the years of joy and love that you gave to us. There never would have been enough years. Thank you for the many lessons in “Mindfulness with Henry” as you got older and slowed down a bit, giving me the chance to slow down with you so we could be together in our own bubble, rather than the speed of the world around us. Thank you for always trying and when it was not possible anymore, telling me. Sleep well, my darling.

Nine years

Big Feelings

I want to know when does it stop feeling unfair? When does the anger that death came too early for my Mom subside? When does the sorrow go away that she isn’t physically there to share the big moments and the not so big ones?

I made the drive to Marum today, with the boys. At their age, I don’t take it for granted that things can be postponed. For them, if they sleep in the car or in the basket under my desk, they are happy to be near me – can’t imagine why, especially on the days that I am wearing Cranky Pants.

If you make the trip without stops, it’s 2.5 hours one way. If you make the drive with little dogs that get themselves wrapped up in their seatbelts and start struggling, it takes a little longer with all of the detangling stops. Not to mention the “OMG, who farted??” stops so they can take care of business. The whole way up, it was dark grey skies. Then just over the provincial line, the rain started.

When we got to the tiny church, I thought I would wait the rain out. I closed my eyes and tried to catch a cat nap. But that didn’t work as I was too agitated and the above mentioned doggy farts. When I saw the little old lady walking laps in the parking lot with her walker, I knew that it was time to stop trying to put off the inevitable and get out into the rain.

Dogs in all of their raingear and me, into the graveyard we went. There are a lot more occupants then there used to be. It’s still one of the most peaceful places I have been to and yet I still don’t want to be there. Unfortunately, that is not an option. We spent a good half hour in the rain, me talking to her stone and the boys endlessly twisting around and around waiting for us to move.

On the way back, the sky had a different sort of light. Still massive clouds, like walls, but this time with yellow white light above them. I was reminded of my Mom saying that the light in the north was different, this was the light of painters.

Today marks the end of the Annual Difficult Period (ADP). It’s the time between Thanksgiving and the 16th of January each year. All of my Mom’s lasts. When I wake up tomorrow, I won’t miss her any less but it will no longer be the ADP, which is a relief. Maybe tomorrow I can laugh again when I think of something that she said.

And George peed tonight directly on the bottle of Pet Stain Remover. Perfect target. The bottle did not disappear and nor did it magically absorb the pee. Tomorrow I hope I will find that funny.

Her spark

Big Feelings

Today my Mom would have turned 82. For most of my life, I don’t think we actually knew her age. It was not our business as my Mom was fond of repeating when we asked. It wasn’t until she became sick and her birthdate had to be constantly repeated as a form of authentication that I really became aware of her age. The best way to describe my mother’s relationship to her age was she didn’t act it at all!

This is probably the reason I still have to think when I calculate her age. To me, she was simply a force to be reckoned with, an unearthly amount of forceful personality packed into a small frame with a fondness for wearing a particular brand of track suits (AKA “active leisure wear”) and sneakers. Coupled with a fleece vest and she was done with fashion. She did, however, have very distinct taste in bags. Which now that I think about it is probably where I get my search for the perfect bag from.

I still feel her life was too short. Nine years later and that hasn’t gone away. Nine birthdays later and I still miss her and as each year, we’ll be eating Mexican food tonight and I’m drinking a mighty strong margarita.

I knew today was going to be difficult. I slept poorly last night, waking up every hour and then oversleeping and having to run out the door. Which also meant that I had to skip meditating so you can imagine that I was a hot mess. When I did finally get to my classroom, the first thing I did was meditate. The theme was compassion for self and others. The practical activity would be to find something today that when I reacted today, I would do it with more compassion (for myself) then normal. Great, not something that fit with where I was already sitting today, feeling-wise.

GG had to bring the boys today as I was late and I wanted to have them with me. They came in their banana yellow raincoats except that Henry was wearing the one from George (and lost in it) and George was wearing Henry’s which was too short.

Having the boys there sparked a conversation at the end of the day with one of my best employees. She wanted to tell me about how much her life had changed in the past 18 months, including learning to like dogs. The boys were responsible for a good portion of that change from fear to feeling safe. Further, her work and her place in our community made her aware of her strengths and how she saw her future.

When she was telling me this, I realized that here it is – the spark that is my Mom and her legacy. That for every person that comes through the classroom and finds their path forward, that is my Mom’s impact and legacy. As long as that keeps happening, her spark remains. It’s not an insignificant light but rather something bright and never ending. That means that she remains present.

I wish that I could come home and tell my Mom this. I know she would probably react with something awkward and try to change the subject. I don’t know if my Mom ever knew how much impact she had on those around her. I do know that she was super uncomfortable with positive attention. I can relate. But today I tried to practice some of that compassion and I listened. That listening let me hold my Mom that much closer today.

Happy Birthday, Mom. Thank you for being the spark in my life, from the first day to my last.

Christmas 2021

Big Feelings, December

It’s quite cold out, 1 degree C. It’s true fleece weather for Henry and George and as for me, even I wore my hood up today on our walk. The feel is about 6 degrees colder courtesy of that sharp wind blowing around the corners.

I’m listening to a Christmas classic, the Pogues album If I Should Fall from Grace with God and I have to tell you the snarky and sarcastic lyrics suit my mood to a T. Last year we were spending Christmas at a house by the sea with Nel (my fellow anti-Christmas companion) with plenty of jenever, Rummikuib, books and long walks on the beach. Her birthday is the 26th of December and last year we thought it was her 90th. Turns it was her 89th – a slightly awkward moment when you give someone a big gift certificate for a trip to their favorite art museum, dinner and round trip transportation for their 90TH birthday. It’s a good thing we did though as she didn’t see her 90th.

Our plans for 1st Christmas Day this year were to have GG’s immediate family and their kids for dinner. I was so organized I bought all the groceries last weekend and prepared double batches of everything. I had my former interns to dinner on Monday for our annual American Thanksgiving – never mind when it actually falls on the calendar. I was also determined not to wear my anti-holiday cranky pants. However, GG has a horrible, horrible flu. No matter how many tests she does, it’s still just the flu but a bad one. For the sake of everyone, we cancelled our plans.

Yet this left me with vegan tiramisu for 8. Yesterday I delivered the goods to her sister’s house for Christmas dinner. What absolutely shocked me is that both GG and her sister (this is clearly upbringing) asked me if I didn’t want to take out some for ourselves and then give them the rest. I could not wrap my head around bring a dessert to someone with a portion already missing. First I thought GG was crazy or at least badly mannered but then her sister asked me the exact same thing. Clearly I am in the minority 😉 I don’t think I will ever find my way to bringing less than a whole dish to someone. After dinner, different story, doggie bags for everyone but before?? No way!

We won’t eat Christmas dinner tonight since GG can’t taste anything. We’ll try for tomorrow. Fortunately, the Netherlands has first and second Christmas Day. As we are back in a lockdown, there is nothing to do outside the door. This one is planned through 14 January but I imagine it will be extended again. This time many cafes and restaurants are just closing. They are not even trying takeout as it doesn’t bring in enough to cover the costs. I begin to understand why people are going a little nuts.

Mom and I believed in going away for Christmas and if that was not possible, do everything opposite of everyone else. For example, go to the movies while the world is all eating Christmas dinner. When we were kids, she wanted us to open our presents at night instead of in the morning because she was against the whole pyjamas and bedhead look. That doesn’t really work with kids. I don’t think I made her job easier with my searching through the gifts each year and figuring out who got what – and telling my brothers in advance. 😉

I hope you are celebrating today in the way that you like most!

Bingo

Big Feelings, November, Pets, Travel

Yesterday, I won my own version of provincial bingo. I was also the only player so it’s not like it was a tough competition. There are 12 Provinces within the national borders and three more in the Caribbean.

When I first came to the Netherlands, I used to keep track of every trainstation I went through where I stepped out of the train. I would note in my digital notebook if they had toilets, a coffee bar, fantastic architecture, etc. Dutch people found this a weird and slightly amusing ritual. Of course, if you have lived somewhere your whole life and speak the language comfortably and have no problems peeing anywhere outdoors (aka Wild Plassen – Wild Peeing) then you spend your time complaining about your national train system instead of appreciating it. 😉

I saw a lot of the Netherlands via train. This brought me to my Provincial Bingo. I wanted to see every province in the Netherlands. I would have to spend at least a day there for it to count for the bingo. My last province was Zeeland. Yes, it’s where New Zealand gets it’s non-indigenous name from.

I never quite got around to Zeeland. Partially because every time we would look for a place to escape to, GG would say “Oh, the landscape is so boring there.” Or because everything was full. As it is very close to the coast it attracts lots of German and Belgian tourists. Or because it’s a part of the Netherlands that everything is closed on Sunday and deeply religious.

When we decided a two weeks ago to run away for the weekend with the boys, Zeeland was available. For the past two days, we have been wandering along the beach and in the dunes. It’s a bit hard because the last time we were at the beach, we still had our Nel (of the jenever drinking fame). She would have loved it here and they have done a good job of making things accessible here. Much more than in our province.

She passed on the 2nd of October, between the checkin points of the nightshift and the dayshift. The last time I spoke to her was a few days before when she was so angry that it was taking so long to die. It was in the early hours of the morning and by 11am when the doctor came on his rounds, she gave him a very clear indicator of what she wanted. It didn’t take long and I am glad that I was there to listen to her. I’m glad also that she made through to George’s 16th birthday and the last things she heard from me was that we loved her and George was going to get his scooter license.

Her funeral was the best it could be under the circumstances. We had sent a lot of photos for the digital wall and many people were under the impression that GG and I were in our 70’s and more mobile than our Nel. They thought all the trips she made with us were senior excursions so they were quite surprised to see the adventures she had been on and how “young” we are. The boys were also in attendance and received much attention, including pieces of wurst.

As for today, it’s very early still and George is snoring away next to my chair in the basket. It’s still dark outside and I’m on my way to my second cup of instant coffee (the one downside of weekends away from home). Eight years ago, I was spending my first week here as a resident. We arrived just before Halloween and I was due to report to work on the 4th of November. Crazy. How full the past eight years have been.

Shifting again

Big Feelings

Let me start by saying that Henry and George are heading towards their 16th birthdays this month in good health. This is something that I am grateful for. I know we will not have forever. Everyday that I can put them on the bike and pedal to work is a good one, no matter what else happens that day.

Our household has expanded. L is back. I learned my lesson from last time (Slow DOWN) and have been remarkably not problem solving as is my usual habit. It seems to be working for now and we’ll see where it leads.

On Monday my favorite walking companion and jenever drinking company entered hospice. This is really difficult for her as she has absolutely no desire to die. At 89, the medical decision is that there is nothing to be done with a tumor except make it a comfortable end. I understand the medical perspective although I don’t like it. I want to smuggle her out of the hospice and bring her back to her home. I’m not the only one as two nights ago, she tried to leave there in the middle of the night.

Her cat, Smokey, is now living with us. Circumstances considered, he’s adjusting really well. Pickle has become fast friends with him because he thinks “woohoo, another tail to play with.” Olive is still keeping her distance. George gives him a wide berth and I am not even sure Henry cares. We have found him to be a loving cat and as long as you brace yourself before he starts pushing his head against you, you can stay standing. 😉

I’m not sure what the right word is to describe my current state. Volatile is probably the best one. There’s so much grief and anger right under the surface that I am either avoiding people completely or when I do talk to someone, I get into fight mode. Partially because everything seems to insignificant in comparison to the loss that I know is coming and it feels really unfair. Like aren’t there some other people that could take the exit instead? I know it doesn’t work that way but I wish it did.

I feel helpless and I hate that feeling. That’s the toughest one for me to deal with.