A wise woman once told me the only way through grief is straight through. While this is no doubt true, a new distraction surely isn’t cheating. Four months into the grieving process, I sought just this. I won’t say it was altogether clear to my disordered mind but it was happening all the same. My initial attempts at distraction consisted of partaking in obsessive late night depressive gorging and almost regretfully forgoing the gluttony of alcoholic oblivion. My email seemed bombarded with lonely ladies from China and Eastern Europe vying for my attention. Although feeling like quite the catch I decided to forgo these generous advances. Exercise was a possibility although a foreign idea as of late. I found it difficult to muster more than a shuffle with my heavy heart. Certainly calls with loved ones helped. Frenetic cleaning of closets and storage areas helped briefly but all were riddled with emotional traps.
Then possibly because it was ridiculous, inconvenient and chaotic I came to the brilliant conclusion that what this grief stricken mind needed was to adopt a furry dependent to absorb into an already busy four-child, three-pet house. My husband, needless to say, did not feel the same way. His grief sought order. A much more reasonable approach. Nights of discussions and heartfelt pleas – on both sides – ended in my husband ever willingly but against his better judgement saying yes. Enter stage right – the object of my obsession, ahem, attention, became a 12 week old Newfoundland and Labrador puppy. While not exactly tiny, I’m not sure if he understood the weighty emotions he was going to carry on those furry and ever growing shoulders.
Before passing judgement please be aware that in no way did I believe a puppy and all of its demands and needs was a cure for all that ailed me, but I reasoned in the long dark hours of the night that it seemed appropriate to add some joy where so much had been extinguished. And yes, getting a large breed was probably necessary to carry the emotional burden waiting to greet it. I have no regrets at all about adding another creature who wakes me up and competes for my attention. I would recommend a puppy to most anyone who understands the work involved. I would not, however, recommend getting a new puppy the same week one discovers they and their entire family have COVID. This was the reality for us.
We had a very happy ride to pick up a gangly and carsick puppy and about 26 hours of lively debate to discuss enthusiastically as children do, what its name would be. I am raising staunch supporters in various name camps. At an oddly advanced time of ownership, his name was Puppy with no resolution in sight when we had our first positive Covid test. That was about the time Puppy peed on the floor.
For the next two weeks, IT came for us all. Some had fevers, the throw-ups, sore throats, runny noses or some combination of them all. The only thing it did not bring was sleep it seemed. Then there was the worry. As a parent I have scoured the information about COVID and yes, most was reassuring but there is always a sliver of doubt which makes just enough room between the cracks of certainty for all manner of monster to creep. Through it all Puppy went outside approximately every 7.5 minutes being potty trained, ate a myriad of kleenex – both fresh from the many boxes available to him and those containing hazardous waste, – bit fingers and toes of the unwell and discovered one of the greatest joys of being a puppy – the cats.
Mostly I stumbled sleep-deprived around the house during this time holding buckets, dispensing meds, reassuring sad, sick children, replenishing empty kleenex boxes both from Puppy and tiny sore noses, all the while attending to Puppy who although perplexed by his new surroundings was quite willing to fall into a puppy slumber beside a little child who felt terrible about most things except the fact her fingers were entwined in puppy fur.
I suppose that is the problem with both grief and distraction. It isn’t orderly. It isn’t linear. It takes you places you can’t foresee. As a mother I dodged COVID as long as I possibly could and it came for us anyway. Also as a mother I sought distraction and I certainly achieved it just not how I envisioned. The grief, of course, remains. But alongside it are small but not inconsequential moments of joy. That I didn’t see coming either.