Remembering the dead

I still think of Cricket a lot and miss her and cry every now and then. But life has returned to normal for the most part, except I have more time now, and fewer expenses and worries. I still haven't gotten around to giving away or otherwise disposing of all the leftover dog food, medications, toys, bedding, etc. Some few special things I'm going to keep to remind me of her. But I don't need the stuff that takes up lots of room. That stroller only got two days of use, and I'm sure somebody would enjoy having it.

I am writing a book now, on anticipating and going through (growing through) the loss of a pet. These blog entries will form the core of it, but there's lots more to say. I am enjoying getting into the routine of writing a bit every day, but that means I've been neglecting the blog. However writing here is still a good way to try a few new ideas out. I don't want to give away the whole content of the book here, though. But expect a few snippets from time to time. And of course, life goes on, and there will be other things to photograph (or bring up from my archives) and blog about.

On Wednesday I picked up the art glass that was made by Memoria Vitria, encorporating some of Cricket's ashes. The colors I chose were cobalt (blue) and apple (green), the former because Cricket always wore a blue collar, and the latter because she loved apples -- she'd always ask for the core whenever I'd finished eating an apple. This will be a permanent memorial of her that I can take with me if I ever move away from Vancouver. It is beautiful in its own right, so it doesn't shout "urn!" I have friends who have kept the ashes of their loved ones for years and not known quite what to do with them once the desire to have them out on the mantelpiece has passed. At that point it's sort of anticlimactic to go scatter them somewhere, and yet it's disrespectful to put them in storage in the garage. I plan to sprinkle the remainder of Cricket's ashes to mark the one-year anniversary of her death. I also got a ceramic pawprint made before she was cremated. And I took a clipping of some of her fur before she died and saved it in a plastic bag for I don't know what yet (perhaps to be made into a necklace or something). And there are all the hundreds of photos and video footage. So many ways to remember Cricket!

I'm feeling less and less of a need for the physical reminders as time goes on. But weird as this might sound, I do like summoning the tears once in a while. Staring at Cricket's art glass and seeing the sparkles from her ashes brought the tears to my eyes again this evening. I don't think it's a sign that I'm not moving on well with my life. After all, actors, whenever they need to play a role in which they are crying, call to mind something real in their life that they were sad about. So I can choose to go there whenever I want, or not. I think there is something healing in tears. If I'm ever troubled about something completely unrelated (but not particularly sad), going back to remember Cricket and cry about missing her takes away the knot in my stomach. Never a need to go to a counsellor again. I have built-in therapy now!