Just before Thanksgiving the blogging community, and indeed the world, lost a beautiful soul when Dewey of The Hidden Side of a Leaf passed away. If you are like me, you did not not even know Dewey was sick, but according to her husband, who posted this beautiful piece just after her death, she had been in a great deal of pain for a long time, and so in some ways, her death was merciful – if also devastating for those close to her.
Publicist Lisa Roe has asked me to share some of her thoughts about Dewey’s passing, and I have posted the first segment of those words here. At the bottom of the post, you’ll see links to the two additional pieces of Lisa’s writing. Please visit them all, remember Dewey, and appreciate the ones you love – bloggers and other.
So alive. In my email box, my files, my lists and your blog. I canâ€™t quite figure it out. Canâ€™t get over the shock. Donâ€™t know where to go with the emotion.
Iâ€™ve never dealt with death very well. I donâ€™t know how. I was never given the proper equipment. I like to think I do since the basic physical mechanics make sense to me. Things stop working, slow down, shut down. This causes other parts, and bits and things to follow suit. Yeah. I get it.
But how could I be expected to fully appreciate the emotional impact death brings? Since childhood, I was told about the nice farm our dog went to live on with the nice farmer and his wife who love her so much. Did I forget to mention the wide open, green pastures she can run through for miles? Wowie, theyâ€™re swell!
Then thereâ€™s Goldie the goldfish, who swam his way through the chemical blue of our toilet water straight to the ocean and freedom were he was reunited with his family and lived happily ever after. I gotta hand it to my mom, though. She pressed the handle down on the toilet and, gaping mouth, unfocused eyes or not, that fish looked like he was giving freedom his best shot!
These fables of youth. The tales weâ€™re told that lead us on through the young, tender years and deposit us on the other side of adulthood, strong, well-adjusted, confident individuals. Ease our minds. Save us pain. Quell our ever persistent questions of why, why why, why, why, whyâ€¦
I could deal with the misbegotten animals. In my mind, they were off frolicking, having fulfilled their lease with us. But it left me unprepared for the real thing. The big â€˜Dâ€™. The word adults whispered around the children. We werenâ€™t to know what it was. We were too vulnerable.
It was precisely at this critical juncture of emotional development that I lost someone. A real someone. Someone who, when questioning the whereaboutsâ€™ of, couldnâ€™t be accounted for at a farm or looked for under the toilet seat.
It was my cousin. He was 15. I was told the story of how he hurt himself while riding an ATV. Bumped his head on a tree. Everyone was scared and crying at the hospital. I tore a page out of a coloring book and painstakingly colored it for him. It was a picture of a pony with tail high and lively, itâ€™s head bowed down in silent whinny. Not one mark breaching its outline.
Please visit these two posts to continue reading Lisa’s thoughts on Dewey, and please post your thoughts on Dewey here or on the other two blogs. Thank you.
Part Two of Lisa’s Post by Julie at Booking Mama