Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Remembrance


Morning light on Yom Kippur.

Jake died exactly three months ago. Some days it feels like years since I had to say goodbye to him. Sometimes, it feels like he should still be here, curled up in his overstuffed rocker. Death is incomprehensible, to me at least.

The journeys I took this summer, the friends I re-connected with, the changes of scenery and routine were intensely healing and in some way created a sense of increased distance from all the emotions stirred up on that sad day. Though I can access the grief that lay so heavy on my heart all summer (from before he died, even), it is no longer acute. The passage of time/space really does heal all wounds!

Last night for the first time I dreamed of Jake. There was nothing fancy about the dream. I found his leash and got some plastic bags, took him for a walk. We had another dog with us but the focus in the dream was on Jake, his soft gold fur and beautiful brown eyes. It was not a lucid dream, but I kept thinking, "It's so good to see Jake!" as if I knew in the dream we had been separated. He seemed rather nonchalant about our reunion. Oh well. It was a sweet dream, reassuring in an autumnal, melancholy way.

What is remembered, lives.


REMEMBERING

There are threads of old sound heard over and over
phrases of Shakespeare or Mozart the slender
wands of the auroras playing out from them
into dark time the passing of a few
migrants high in the night far from the ancient flocks
far from the rest of the words far from the instruments

--M.S. Merwyn




God's crepuscular ray outfit shortly before sunset on Yom Kippur.

21 comments:

Washington Cube said...

Is that a sky, or what? Your Jake dream sounds sweet...the kind you don't want to end.

I should blog about blowing a shofar. Instead, I'm writing about burying false teeth today....so go figure.

glnroz said...

I am glad you are feeling better about the puppy. Remembrance can be such an elixir. Thnx for the read, glenn

JC said...

I'm glad you had a dream with jake in it. It feels a bit better now doesn't it. Still hurts but not so sharp.

I think you ought to write a book about your walks with Jake.

The sky photo is something isn't it ...

Reya Mellicker said...

Cube, you personally have blown shofars? I've never even touched one. On Yom Kippur, car alarms that sound like horns kept going off all around me. I imagined they functioned as mundane world shofars.

Thanks, Glenn.

lakeviewer said...

He has visited you on such an important memory day.

Reya Mellicker said...

Thanks, Lakeviewer. You are completely right about his timing. Wow.

And YES JC I wouldn't have believed it, but it does feel better now. Wow.

Expat From Hell said...

Reya: I think we all enjoy Jake's memory, while we also feel the pain of his absence - all of this thanks to you. As Rod Stewart says, "you wear it well!"

EFH

Lori ann said...

Death is incomprehensible to me too, how can it be, when the memory of Jake is still so alive and well in your heart? I'm glad he came to you in a dream and I'm glad your heart is healing.

willow said...

Lovely dream. What is remembered does live!

Joanne said...

Yes, what is remembered, lives. Memories have an energy, a life, so on a certain plane, that memory is a life of its own.

Washington Cube said...

Reya Honey...I own one. Don't ask.

ewix said...

Yes, this was a lovely peaceful dream about ordinary life.
Savor it!
Yes, quite a sky

Rain said...

That was a really nice post Reya. Beautiful photo of the sky.

John Hayes said...

Beautiful post--& what a beautiful dream; that seems like a dream of healing much more than a dream of grief.

steven said...

mmmm reya - the first photograph caught me and held me . . . through the gold and green dark-veined leaves there's a little space filled with reddish coloured leaves. a breathing space, where the yellow almost mauve sunlight tickles its way in but doesn't paint with the broad brush of green that takes care of the big picture. two branches hold the space. like a spine. the trunk -like a spine - holds the spaces. so it is with the jakester. the spine of your being holds the spaces he fills. paints the colours of his being with a small brush.
merwyn's words were purejoy!!! sweet night in dc reya!!! steven

Reya Mellicker said...

Steven how did you know we called him "the Jakester"??

Barbara Martin said...

The first photo with the sunlight filtered through on the left made me think you've captured yourself an angel in the lens, Reya. Magnificent.

As for dreaming about Jake, I have the occasional dream about dogs I owned that have passed on: even one of a wolf companion from thousands of years ago at the retreat of the last ice age. Jake has come to be with you for a time as your healing continues.

mouse (aka kimy) said...

I can't believe it's been 3 months.

hugs

Ronda Laveen said...

It makes sense to me that Jake was nonchalant about your reunion. Dogs have a sense of time that is different from ours...more, hmmmmm, everlasting. We come. We go. We get home when we get home. To them a minute can be as short as a second or as long as a millenium. In his world, he has not lost you...just waiting until you get together again. Whenever and where ever.

Here, Jake, let me give you a skrich on your rump.

eda said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
steven said...

oh hi reya! if he'd been in my life directly, that's what i would've called him! steven