The first month of 2020 has come and gone and it’s left a whirlwind of emotions behind.
It started with Danny getting one of those viruses that wouldn’t let up. My plan to start a 30-day yoga challenge was put on hold. My plans to drink more water and prepare healthy dishes were put on hold. My plans for early bedtimes and getting a good night’s rest were put on hold.
Then, mid month, everything was put on hold. Tano our 15-year old, almost blind and deaf, dog went missing one Sunday evening. He didn’t return home that night. I woke up on Monday morning and peeked outside. He wasn’t there. My heart sunk. He always came home.
That night, after hours of searching the roads and neighbourhoods throughout the day and even though I knew something was terribly wrong, I powered through day 16 of my yoga challenge. At the end I sat up and buried my head in my knees and cried. I literally sobbed for a few minutes and then began to attempt to calm myself down. Not having him around was torture, not knowing was torture. As you can imagine it took a lot of strength to try and calm down the mental chatter too. The next day shortly after breakfast I bundled Danny up and headed out again. Nothing.
By day 4 I stopped calling for him. Our home was quiet, we were quiet. We were mourning. I could hear his little paws tapping across the floor. I would see him running to the house from the garden. Scraps of food that should have been for him now just got thrown away. Even though at times I found myself bending down to leave him some. I say his name just because, after all these years, it feels unnatural not to. And again I cried myself to sleep that night.
On Friday morning, while I was on my way home from the morning school run and a pilates class, I decided to pull the car over by the side of an empty little field in our neighbourhood. I do not know what possessed me to do. We drive past that road everyday so I could have just kept going like I did everyday. After taking a quick look in a pile of garbage I turned around and saw him. Laying perfectly still under an abandoned white van was my little friend. He was gone.
For a split second I thought he was sleeping. He was just so perfect, not a wound or blood in sight. Though I doubt I will ever get that image out of my mind, knowing he wasn’t hurt was comforting. And I found him. I found him. There would be no more searching, wondering, no more hoping.
I ran to the car and called my husband who still had hopes the old man would find his own way home. He did though, I tried telling him later on that night when we both mourned the loss of our old friend. We brought him back home. I couldn’t bear not knowing, not being able to at least bury him and give myself and my family closure. 15 years cannot just disappear into thin air. During the days he was missing I kept saying to everyone that I just wanted to see him one last time and bring him home. I felt it in my bones that he was gone because those days and nights he was missing were the coldest in quite a few years. Tano slept in our warm home, always.
The day we buried him under an olive tree in the garden I didn’t do my yoga challenge. But I did the next day and the day after that. And earlier this week I completed my journey, 30 days of yoga practice. Whether I was sad, tired, sore, dying inside or short on time, I showed up. I was following Yoga with Adriene’s 30 day yoga journey home. That’s what it’s called: journey. But you see, I lost a companion on the way home and Adriene has her four-legged companion by her side in all the videos she shares. So the emotions were too many to be contained when her sweet Benji stood up to kiss her and they shared a tender moment which was dramatised by the fact that the last 30 day practice is done with no words but soft gentle music that reminded me I am finally home. But without Tano. The last 20 minutes of the last practice were done through tears. Downward dog with tears rolling up my face, warrior’s position, I wipe my tears and focus.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I was dealing with so many emotions at the same time. Grief is a peculiar thing especially when you’re a parent to small children. Georgie has taken Tano’s loss just as you would imagine a 9 year old would. He grew up with him and during the last couple of years, they would sleep together too. We talked about death and loss as much as he wanted to, hoping to normalise it, make it less scary. What we didn’t want to do is shield him from the pain. Crying has been cathartic for all of us and we’re slowly coming out of the fog. Growth comes from pain, I know that now, I am starting to feel it and though I may never fully understand it, I accept it and ease my mind.
RIP baby boy x
