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past his end
Jan. 4th, 2009 01:03 pmI wrote the beginning and the post-end, so I might as well go straight to the end. Yes, I'm writing these out of order.
Past the End
the heart
I didn't see Dr. Hammer for a few months at least, not until he came out to do the spring vaccinations at the barn. While there I finally asked him -- and he said he hadn't called because he knew when I was ready, I would ask him. About what? About what he found ( Read more... )
The earlier cardio ultrasound had shown weakness, the jugular backflow indicated weakness but this …. this was a surprise to both Dr. Hammer and myself. It also explained so so much about the constant struggles and ups and downs Ally went through prior to this. The irregular heartbeat heard that summer before leaving California? Logical . The three years of summertime weight loss while I rode him more and more and more that his body couldn't quite keep up with? Ah-ha. The staggering on our trail ride while a gallop nearly put him into a heartattack (or probably DID, but we had no idea)? Bingo. Talk about a major muscle cramp.
Interesting, his kidneys were fine. Nov 99 to Jan 07 on bicarbonate for his renal tubular acidosis, and the kidneys were a-okay. THAT's what I figured would be the part of his body to fail and kill him off someday. Just, not so soon. And not some other part of his body.
talking
Even now I turn into an idiot when it comes to Ally. I can start to mention my 'horses' to someone and suddenly I just HAVE to tell them that I had another, that I lost him, then how I lost him and how horrible it was. Dear gods, I've turned into one of THOSE people. The ones that corner you and talk and talk and talk and you nod politely and try to escape. Apparently grief takes bizarre twists and turns.
tattoo
I knew from almost the day after he died that I wanted a tattoo of Ally. I contacted Kate about it -- and she'd already wanted to do some sort of artwork for me for Ally so our intentions merged very well. However, it was going to take time for me to decide, time to know, time to do it all ….
The original design was gorgeous, but it wasn't right for my skin, my body. I had to figure that out and finally a year and a half later I DID. I found the odd combination of celtic and tribal work that I liked with a horse head figure and the gaelic word for 'my angel'. And so Kate worked her magic.
It's placed over my left hip where I can touch and feel and see him every day. The tattoo artist did wonders with some of the curves, melding it with my own body shape so very little distortion occurs when I move. The ink looks like it's supposed to be there -- and it is.
the end of grief?
Getting the tattoo was a HUGE step and writing all of this out now is definitely an even larger step. The grief doesn't end or disappear but this will let me process through it all. It's been like a fire too hot to touch. I dance around it, I sometimes skip near it before leaving it alone. But this time I'm going to sit with the fire and accept it, remembering *everything* (good and bad!) until the fire is purged and I am left with the best of memories.
Why I'm writing this
I've held back a LOT about his death because I couldn't write about it -- part of this process is letting go, which includes writing it out. For me, when I write something out, I'm no longer carrying it around with me. The burden is lessened.
Past the End
the heart
I didn't see Dr. Hammer for a few months at least, not until he came out to do the spring vaccinations at the barn. While there I finally asked him -- and he said he hadn't called because he knew when I was ready, I would ask him. About what? About what he found ( Read more... )
The earlier cardio ultrasound had shown weakness, the jugular backflow indicated weakness but this …. this was a surprise to both Dr. Hammer and myself. It also explained so so much about the constant struggles and ups and downs Ally went through prior to this. The irregular heartbeat heard that summer before leaving California? Logical . The three years of summertime weight loss while I rode him more and more and more that his body couldn't quite keep up with? Ah-ha. The staggering on our trail ride while a gallop nearly put him into a heartattack (or probably DID, but we had no idea)? Bingo. Talk about a major muscle cramp.
Interesting, his kidneys were fine. Nov 99 to Jan 07 on bicarbonate for his renal tubular acidosis, and the kidneys were a-okay. THAT's what I figured would be the part of his body to fail and kill him off someday. Just, not so soon. And not some other part of his body.
talking
Even now I turn into an idiot when it comes to Ally. I can start to mention my 'horses' to someone and suddenly I just HAVE to tell them that I had another, that I lost him, then how I lost him and how horrible it was. Dear gods, I've turned into one of THOSE people. The ones that corner you and talk and talk and talk and you nod politely and try to escape. Apparently grief takes bizarre twists and turns.
tattoo
I knew from almost the day after he died that I wanted a tattoo of Ally. I contacted Kate about it -- and she'd already wanted to do some sort of artwork for me for Ally so our intentions merged very well. However, it was going to take time for me to decide, time to know, time to do it all ….
The original design was gorgeous, but it wasn't right for my skin, my body. I had to figure that out and finally a year and a half later I DID. I found the odd combination of celtic and tribal work that I liked with a horse head figure and the gaelic word for 'my angel'. And so Kate worked her magic.
It's placed over my left hip where I can touch and feel and see him every day. The tattoo artist did wonders with some of the curves, melding it with my own body shape so very little distortion occurs when I move. The ink looks like it's supposed to be there -- and it is.
the end of grief?
Getting the tattoo was a HUGE step and writing all of this out now is definitely an even larger step. The grief doesn't end or disappear but this will let me process through it all. It's been like a fire too hot to touch. I dance around it, I sometimes skip near it before leaving it alone. But this time I'm going to sit with the fire and accept it, remembering *everything* (good and bad!) until the fire is purged and I am left with the best of memories.
Why I'm writing this
I've held back a LOT about his death because I couldn't write about it -- part of this process is letting go, which includes writing it out. For me, when I write something out, I'm no longer carrying it around with me. The burden is lessened.
