Current Life Story: The Case of grief vs sadness

I was called to write today, but I wasn't sure what to title it.  But I do know that it’s dedicated to our amazing dog Reba Lanka, whose 4 paws have been noticeably missing from our family for 5 days, thanks to careless driving from a neighbor.

On the way to school today, my two daughters were arguing over whether to listen to Ariel’s favorite, “Jesus loves me” or Aurora's favorite, a song called, “No present like the time.” In listening to Ariel’s extreme rage and anger at hearing Aurora's favorite song playing, it seemed misplaced, and bigger than the moment. But rather than raise my voice louder than both of them, I turned down the music and said, “Ariel, I love you, what’s going on?”

And then it came out in a stream of tears, “momma I really miss Reba, and I don’t want to pretend she’s still here with us, I want the real Reba back…and I hate that man who hit her with his car.” She wasn't wrong for having these big feelings, because I instantly started crying too, because forgiveness had been hard for me as well, but I reached back with my right hand and took Ariel’s foot and nodded my head and told her I felt the same, and that I missed her too.

“It’s not fair that she’s gone.”

And she was right, it wasn’t fair.

Then I said, “ladies, grief is hard…but we’re doing great at handling it.” And then Aurora went on to ask me to explain grief to her, and she went on to ask how it was different from sadness; and I took a deep breath and put my right hand back onto the steering wheel, and looked straight ahead tossing around her important question in my heart and mind, formulating my response.

But before I get to my response, let's first let‘s back up…

My husband Adam and I have talked with our girls about death, and how we believe souls leave the bodies that we bury, and they go back into the sky, or “Soul School,” as Aurora taught us to call it. So we went on to talk about how Reba’s soul was now in that space in between, whatever we wanted to call it, and we could only hope she would return to us someday in a form that we could clearly recognize, hopefully sooner than later.

And then I told them a story…

I told them how my soul mate dog, Zona, passed away unexpectedly the morning of April 22, 2016, and how I was so devastated I could hardly breathe or function for days, and I was in a state of deep grief for a long time, spending many hours alone on a yoga mat in our pool rancho, surrounding myself in a circle of crystals. I cried hard every day for weeks, and then slowly only a few times a week, and then months later the pain lessened to just being what felt like a hole in my heart.

And then I went and drank Ayahuasca in Colombia in September 2016, with the hopes to heal my heart from my lingering pain of missing Zonna, and I talked with the shaman about Zona, and how sad I was that I never got to say goodbye to her, or tell her how much I loved her before she left.  And. he told me to call her in and ask her to visit me, so I did. And that night in the ceremony, in my visions, there she was at my feet, and I got to pet her, give her kisses and tell her how much I loved and missed her, and I felt so much peace in my heart. The next morning during breakfast, the shaman came over to me and confirmed with me  that Zona was there in the ceremony the night before, and that he’d seen her, and I nodded my head and cried in gratitude.

And I felt like a big part of my mission in going on that trip was complete. I felt more at peace with Zona's passing.

Shortly after returning from Colombia, I saw a post on Facebook from one of our roommates at the retreat, and she was fostering a sick dog that was a few months old and needed a home. I saw the picture and turned to Adam and said, “that’s our next dog”, and I was so sure that it was either Zona reincarnated or sent by Zona, that I wouldn't take no for an answer. And a few days later, my friend drove her to our house from a few hours away, and Ruby officially joined our pack. And she had the same instant loyalty and intensity of character as Zona.

I shared that story with the girls to demonstrate that souls enjoy coming back to the families they love, and I told them we’d have to be patient for how Reba would decide to re enter our family, because I knew she missed us too, and had zero desire to leave us so early.

So back to the difference between grief and sadness. 

I explained to the girls that sadness and grief are in the same family, but grief is different in that it stays around longer and is a more intense feeling. I told them to think about how they feel when I say no to ice cream for breakfast, or no to a sleepover with a friend on a school night, or when their favorite shirt is in the wash and they can’t wear it. Those were examples of feeling sad. It’s a feeling that can be strong and big, but usually comes and goes, and there’s a sense of moving through it or past it, and moving on with life.

But grief on the other hand, is like a companion that walks beside you, for however long it's meant to be there….it’s a feeling akin to sadness, but it seems to cover all the present moments with a storm cloud that can dispense rain (tears or upset) at any moment, out of nowhere.

For example, I remember being at the doctor on Tuesday, two days after Reba passed, just getting a routine wellness exam in order to get my drivers license in Costa Rica. And the doctor, who knows both my daughters, casually said, “how are the girls?” An innocent and easy question to answer, but not when you’re walking with grief.

I looked up at her and lost it, and began sobbing, telling the nice doctor about our precious dog Reba, and how we lost her on Sunday morning, and how we were all struggling to get through our days. This doctor was so professional, and said she was so sorry for our loss, and she may have even gotten a little glossy-eyed as well. Sometimes that can happen to other dog lovers if they know “that” feeling…the one I was deeply in, thanks to grief.

So along we go together…grief and I.

How do I know grief is still doing life with me? I know because grief makes me pause and roll down the car window each time we pass that spot in the road where Reba died, where there is still some dried blood off to the side. And grief makes me still carry Reba’s food bowl, and place it in her spot at meal time, second in the line of our 6 dogs. Grief makes me say out loud, "I love you Reba, and I am trying to feel you here, because I want you here, but I’m doing my best to slowly accept that you’re gone." Grief doesn’t have a timeline or schedule, and I’ll keep walking with it as long as it takes.

I love you Reba, thanks for walking with us for the 7+ years that you did, showing us what Pure joy and love looks like. 

Much love to Reba and all dog lovers out there,