They say creating artwork heals the soul and helps process grief, but seeing through tears makes it challenging.
"December 3, 2012: The adventure continues, and I am tired. When I spoke with the vet today, the "e" word came up in her conversation, so I contacted an osteopath, looked up an herbalist, and am ready to learn how to do injections to control this. My prayers are that something works. My best companion, my soul mate and friend, to let you go is difficult. I must try everything to ensure that I have done all I can. Yet I will maintain the balance. Your dignity, joy, and quality of life are so much more important to me than just hanging on to you. You bring such a light into my life, and I honour that. With prayers for Neo." - a quote from my book The Final Art-Down.
That quote was from ten years ago today when we were struggling to determine why Neo wasn't responding as expected to the medication for pneumonia and what our next steps would be.
Today, I watched his friend Echo slowly but with determination, healing from a nasty fall that fractured his jaw and wondered about the best path. He's eating, sunning himself, and affectionate. His heart
rate is regular, he has no fever, and his pain is managed. He's 27 years old, approximately 82 in its human equivalent. I feel the shadow of that rainbow bridge, no longer in the distance but opening its arms in welcome.
Only time will tell whether Echo chooses to take that step out onto the bridge deck or continues enjoying his life here in his forever home. At present, he seems to wallow in the hourly cuddle visits, as long as I don't cuddle too much, and the extended scratches under his blanket, but only if I scratch in the right places. So I will continue just loving Echo.
Have you ever made art while grieving?
0%Yes.
0%No.
The Lofty Arthouse
Rocky View County, AB
T4C 2W1