It is so fucking lonely around here.
Thursday I wedged myself out of a tiny crevice of stillness and moving slowly soslowly put my bike together, found one glove, the wrong pump, a spare tire, put on my bike shorts, found the right pump, inflated the tires, the other glove, sunscreen, shoes, and water. With boulders in my head and boulders in my chest cavity and all rocky with resistance I got on my bike and started to ride.
I tell myself this is what I have to do if I want to deal with this well and part of me does not want to deal with this well. Part of me wants to sit in the dark wiping my nose on my sleeve throwing vases at anyone who even suggests turning on the lights.
I rode as hard as I was able for thirty miles till my chest was burning with a sensation similar to nausea. My heart rate has not been elevated barring anxiety for almost six weeks and I am amazed how badly I want to get back to my own self. At exactly 3:44 in the afternoon I stopped to tell Edison I love him and miss him something fierce.
I am ready for a year of Sundays. Despite everything, because of everything, one emotion I've been able to unweave in the tangle is relief. Sascha said to me ITS LIKE YOU'VE BEEN PUMMELED BY A MONSTER WAVE AND YOU ARE FACE PLANTED CRUMPLED ON THE SAND. I feel that way, like the wave has passed and I can finally breath and look around, survey the land as it lays about me after the wedding and the honeymoon, the moving and graduating, cancer and fractured bones...
For five months since Edison was diagnosed we have been holding grief and hope at bay and I am glad, no, relieved this ordeal is over for all of us. I am exhausted from secretly hoping and believing it might just be worms or indigestion or allergies, it might just be something I can bargain with. It might not be cancer, maybe its just a cold.
And finally, finally I can start grieving.
If I could have done anything to make Edison happier, more comfortable I would do it. If I could have any more time with him I would buy it at ANY cost but not for the look of pain in his eyes. Edison lived much longer then any of us expected and the vet said it was testament to the extraordinary care we took of him (which made me cry like crazy) but I think it was really because of the look of pain in our eyes and he was like MAN YOU GUYS REALLY NEED ME IF YOU ARE GONNA KEEP IT TOGETHER. That goddamn wave was cresting anyway and poised to break when he took his cue. The waters are receding and my legs are sound enough that I can stand up and run off to higher ground. Or ride at least.
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