🐕 TREE 458: Grief is a strange thing

Today, tomorrow and Thursday we have three very personal reflections from Miles Taylor, who says:

My name is Miles. I’m a non binary, bi-racial, police officer who lives in the Deep South. When I’m not out trying to be the change in the world, I can almost always be found at either a coffee shop, or at home with my dogs watching Netflix. I like to think that everyone is waiting for someone to be brutally honest, but in a very gentle, “wake tf up!!” Kind of way. I’m an open book, begging to be read.

You probably remember Miles (then known as Sam) from FIELD GUIDE 21.

Grow slowly
Jeff

One minute you’re fine, the next you’re imploding on yourself. One hour you’re going about your day as if nothing ever happened, the next hour every thought you have is only of the thing that caused the grief to begin in the first place.

Grief can be used in so many ways. It can literally be used to get you out of the grief you’re in, or it can again, quite literally, swallow you whole and turn you into a black hole.

Never in my life have I experienced grief like I have recently discovered I’m experiencing.

In 2011, I got a puppy. This puppy was the WORST of his litter. I met him as he was peeing, pooping, and eating paper towels. My heart said, “Ooooh! I want him”. For the first 3 years of his life, I tried to give him away.

He turned 5 in the blink of an eye and settled down, a little bit. He would jump up on me and do a sort of kick spin to let me know it was time to go outside. He ate peanut butter — yeah, I bought my own peanut butter and he got his own. He got a little sister and he was happy. He made me happy every single time I walked through the door. He was always so excited to see me. Always so excited to go on adventures with me.

At 9 years old, he was still just as quick, nimble, active, and excited. When we went out people would ask, if he was a puppy. He had calmed down a lot by this age and we were just enjoying life. He turned 10, and the white hair began to show. His whiskers were turning white, his beard was lightening up. He turned 11, and we found ourselves at the vet for our first major reason. His hind legs began dragging behind him, his weight was too much on them.

We got 8 months out of 2022. He left this world on August 8. As I’m writing, I’m also realising he left this world on the same day of his “gotcha day.” I feel like I want to sit under a blanket and just not do anything but think of him and remember all the things we’ve done in the past 11 years. BUT I know that side of grief will consume me and turn me into a black hole.

So I’ll offer this: take your time. Take it slow, but take it. Don’t let grief become a dark cloud that turns into an all encompassing mass that you cannot control. You can get through the grief, life will just be lived differently. Be sad, be mad, be angry, be silent– it’s incredibly important to feel those things. Use the memories you have made and carry those forward. Because there, the grief is overcome by happiness and love. The memory of your loved one lives on in your thoughts and heart. (Spotify)