This coming Saturday we've been invited to attend a candle light memorial service to honor beloved puppos and allow their people to remember them. I was very, very touched when I was asked if we wanted Jersey to be included. It seems perfect to have Jersey's spirit remembered in this way. To some degree it feels as if it is an opportunity to bring closure to the first half of the year that saw Jersey get sick and lose her fight against multi-centric subcutaneous canine lymphoma. I hope it will put a salve on the wound left in my heart when she was abruptly taken away.
A few years ago I had made contact with a girl I was friends with when I was in high school. I haven't seen her in almost 35 years. It turns out she has also experienced the loss of a cherished companion and surprised me when she asked us if we wanted to attend the annual ceremony she holds in her backyard. She does agility training with her dogs and has raised a number of champion performers. I was pleased to learn of her passion and the love she has for her dogs. She is one of those who has allowed me to see that the shared experiences of the past keep us bound together in the present. She is one of those who understand what we are experiencing
I hadn't planned on writing about our plans to attend the service because it's something I was feeling that I would keep private. I've since decide otherwise because for the first time, I am at a loss for words. It's an opportunity to eulogize my Jersey and I feel speechless. I don't know what to say and am at a loss for adequate words.
I have been very honest in this blog about what I've experienced during this grieving process. It has been valuable for me to have a forum in which I can release what I'm thinking, feeling, remembering about Jersey. It's one thing to write about it. It's another thing to speak about it.
I have the feeling that giving an actual voice to our experience will truly make it concrete and real. Sharing it with people who aren't physically present in front of me and are regular readers of this blog allows me some degree of freedom because I feel that I am addressing an invisible audience. Though I know this blog is read regularly, actually speaking to folks about Jersey's beauty and spirit and being able to look them directly in the eye really lets me see that they are listening and hearing me. Putting my thoughts in written form means I can take the words I want to express and massage them, change them or erase them as necessary. Once something is verbalized and spoken aloud it can't be taken back and is really out there for all time
I want my spoken words to be a fitting tribute for her. People will actually hear what I am saying and will see me saying them. I think I prefer to be invisible so I can hide and people won't witness my grief in person.
As a consequence, I'm stuck for what to say.
It seems the only solution I have for this "stage fright" is to speak honestly and how her light and my love for her live on in my heart.
I lost a dear employee/coworker a few years ago and was shocked as I flipped through the program before the ceremony began, to see my name there, as the speaker from her employer. Fortunately, I don't suffer stage fright, but the church was enormous and nearly filled and I was surprised by the emotion that flooded over me as I saw her there, only four days since her last shift.
ReplyDeleteI got up, cleared my voice and spoke into the mike as though I was talking to my friend. I told her that although she was my student, she really had been my teacher, etc and went on to speak about her gift to me.
Eric, you are a wonderful writer, I would love to read your eulogy here, ever though this work seems one ongoing testament. And if you choose to wing it that day,I have no doubt that the words will come. The content doesn't matter, it's another step and a beautiful, honoring one for you.