It’s All About Me, Barbara Sherrod

I no longer focus on Alice, what she needs,

whether she’s in pain, if I have let too much time go by–

 or not enough.   All I can think of is me me me, what I’ve lost,

my empty spaces, the buddy-less me.  That is the selfish part

of grief.  The vets have all sent condolence cards, even Alice ex-vet. 

Neil says the next time he’s sick he’s going to see the vet instead

of a doctor.  And nobody has said to me, “It’s just an animal;

you’ll get another cat; she’s in a better place.”  Everybody gets

it.  They all say the right things and their hearts are in the

right place.  That does not diminish the me-ness, however. 

Only time will do that.  Some people refuse to have pets because,

they claim, they don’t want the responsibility.  I suspect they

don’t want to make the emotional investment.  Chances are

you will outlive your pet and feel the loss.  I recollect the time when

my dear friend and spiritual sister left Colorado and moved

north.  I cried and cried.  But when someone said to me, “That’s

what happens when you befriend somebody who’s here just

temporarily,” I declared, “I wouldn’t have traded that friendship

for anything.”  The blessing is we are still friends.  So to have had

Alice in my life was worth it, even the selfish bit I’m feeling now.

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