Thursday, February 21, 2013

Life, Death & Change



Our son, Shiv Carroll Mehra.


Things have drastically changed in my life since the last time I posted on this blog.

The biggest change is that I am now a parent:  Nishta and I adopted a little son this past summer.  He was born on July 17, and as we watched him emerge from his birth mother's body, I felt my life and heart dramatically alter.  He was so tiny and helpless, yet strong and loud!  And he is ours.  And mine.  Mine--not to own or control--but mine to love, nurture, teach, and to create a stable home for so that he can become the man he wants or is destined to be.  It's a huge responsibility, but not one that feels scary or worrisome to me.  It all feels like grace.  Shiv is simply a gift, all day every day.  There are times when I struggle to remember what I did with myself before he came, and why any of it seemed so important.

The last two months have been laced with sadness, though, because we lost two of our companion animals one right after the other.  First, our sweet old rat terrier, Dolly, died just before Christmas.  Then, last week, we lost Reece, an orange tabby I rescued as a kitten on Washington Avenue over 14 years ago.

It's brutal to lose four-legged family members--there's just no other way to say it.  It's part of the bargain we make when we take them in.  Chances are, we will outlive them and will have to make the hard decision to end their lives when their suffering is too great.  It's the right thing to do, but it's searing every time.  I've done it several times in my life, and it never gets any easier.

Losing these two is especially hard, though.  These two were my furry caretakers during 2011 when I spent most of the year fighting cancer.  I had a battalion of human friends and family who brought meals, did laundry, straightened up the house, ferried me back and forth to appointments, sat with me while I puked--the whole thing.  But these two, Reece and Dolly, were like furry leeches who maintained nearly constant physical contact with me.  They slept beside me or on me every night, and during every nap.  They shared my lap if I sat up.  They followed me from the bed to the bathroom to the kitchen and back to the bed.  Theirs was the breathing I heard and felt as I went to sleep, and the first I heard when I woke up, other than my own.  The days I spent in the hospital for open chest surgery were the worst days of the whole ordeal, mainly because they weren't with me.


Reece and Dolly nursing me when I was sick.



So, losing them feels like an especially strong thread has been cut.  I miss them terribly, almost every moment.

After we hugged and kissed Reece into his death at the vet last Friday evening, I sat at our open backyard window with a glass of wine, listening to the blustery wind and the chortling of the purple martins as they did their final swoops over the lake before settling into their box for the night.  I allowed myself to settle into the dusky stillness of the evening, to match the rhythms of my heart and mind with those of the natural world around me, a world shot through with the interplay of life and death, struggle and ease.  It's a good world, and I am glad to be in it.

After a few moments, our son cried out from his room.  It was his feeding time.

The dead are dead, and we cherish their memory.  And the living are alive, and deserve our attention.  So, I wiped my tears, got up, and went to feed our son.

8 comments:

  1. Things HAVE changed a lot for you! The shift in perspective, whether chosen or thrust upon us, is not always understood. But I think it yields a maturity to value what needs valuing. "...and why they seemed so important." I agree. I look back on my academic days and wonder why parsing a Hebrew verb was not as enthralling to others as it was to me. Still, it was part of my journey.

    You are blessed to have MANY joining you on your journey. I LOVE LOVE LOVE the way you described the loving care and comfort of your pet family. What absolute love angels!!

    I wouldn't be surprised if they still check on you...

    God bless you, and Nishta, and Dolly, Reece and most of all... Shiv.

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  2. Wow, Jill -- so, so touching - and I sit and stare at the page through tears. I celebrate that you dare to love so and have no doubt that your big, full heart aches as you 'ponder these things' therein. Susan and I love you and Nishta and Shiv so much! Do you notice that Shiv misses Dolly and Reese? Annette

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    1. I love you, too, Annette--and Susan and Shadow and Pema, too. I don't know that Shiv misses either of them. He is focused on our young cat, Luna, who pays lots more attention to him. But, Luna and our other cat certainly miss them both, especially Reece. They both are very clingy in this last week since we lost him.

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  3. Hey Jill, I'm sure so much has changed over the last 27 or 28 years since I saw you last! I think you had just come back from Australia touring with "The Switch" with my brother Dave, Ed Goggin, and Dave Dowler. Trying to catch up a little from your website and these blogs... Congratulations on your son and all your accomplishments. So sad to hear of your battles with cancer. Hope that is better now. Being around you in college was a joy and a life-shaping experience--not to mention the thrill of playing in a band with you on drums! Love you girl.

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  4. Reece was a special being, not Buddha as first thought, but one-of-a-kind. I have missed him for a while now but am so glad he was with you during so much these last years. Cannot wait to see him, Sudio, LD, Iris, Jerry and others from before even those wonderful creatures were with us when we get to the rainbow bridge.

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