I don’t want to do anything today. I just want to sit here on this toilet and keep to myself. I want to scratch my neck. Stretch my tongue. Take deep breaths. Drink coffee. Sit still. Move little. Protest against entropy. Cry. But maybe I will go out drinking. Drinking is the one way I can enjoy being with other people. It impresses me how well beer can dissolve grief. I can drink a stout or an IPA, one pint, and then my heart feels less heavy. Grief is a bitch. I have not known grief like this. Despite the fact that I know it will pass. Maybe I don’t want it to pass. If my grief passes that means my loyalty and love for the one I lost is lost. I show my loyalty or commitment or whatever it is to the one I lost by remaining sad. It would be doing a disservice to her memory to feel anything but sad. But beer lets me forget this. I know that she would not want me to be sad. I know that she would not want me sitting here on the toilet in grief. I know this but still I am not ready to stop. I miss here very much. She was my love even though she was a hairy beast who shit and pissed in the dirt. She was too good for toilets. What did I learn from her? I learned the importance of being self-assured. That is what she was. She did not need the validation or approval of anyone. She did what she did and was able to assure herself that it was right or wrong. She didn’t need anyone else to tell her. I am not self-assured. This is the one thing I need to learn. If I say something I will often ask if it is ok. If I write a sensitive text to someone, I will ask someone else if it is ok before sending. If I make something or lead a group of people I will ask if I did ok before I believe that it is ok. I am always doubting myself. I rarely have the conviction that what I am doing is right. Why do I need to ask someone else if the text is ok before I send it out? This is ridiculous. Why can’t I just work out for myself that what I am doing is right? My girl was able to assure herself in everything she did. Most of us need to talk about things. We need to work things out with others. Few of us are self-assured. Few of us our able to work things out within ourselves and then move on without burdening another person. The ability to do this is a virtue. Seneca called self-assuredness the highest virtue. I made that up but like the way it sounded. Even though my girl was a dog/wolf hybrid, she was able to be self-assured like few others are able to. This is what made her a silent and confident leader. She ran the house. For all I know she ran the city she lived in with her confident and silent self-assuredness. This is why her absence leaves a deep void. I am surprised that the world is not more angered by the loss of her. But things go on as normal. None of my neighbors even know that she has died. They might just notice that things are more quiet now. There is not that continual howl. Maybe they think that she is away for a brief time. Or maybe they think we are keeping her inside more. I wonder if they are wondering why I am howling now. As I sit here on the toilet I will howl. Or when I am on the couch, in the shower, alone in my house, I will howl. Yesterday when I was on a walk and an ambulance passed with sirens blaring, I howled. I howl in pain. I howl to remember her. To be close to her. I howl to keep the howling going. I howl because she taught me how to howl. I howl because I miss the sound of her howling. I howl because I feel stronger and more confident when I howl. I howl to fill the hole that she has left. I hope I keep howling. I hope I don’t forget to howl. I hope that even though it may be stupid to say, that she hears me howling and is howling along. This sucks losing someone you love. She is in the earth now, rotting away. I am not resigned to this fate we all face. It is a terrible thing. I don’t accept it. That is why I will keep howling. A protest against the unescapable reality of this life- inevitable death. Rest in peace my girl. Not an hour of what is left of my life will go by that I do not think of you.
Zev Bauhaus 3 Minutes
Published by Zev Bauhaus