Around the Bluhmin’ Town

By

Judy Bluhm

I guess I’m not done crying. I was at the grocery store and while walking down the aisle of crackers, I evidently grabbed one of my late husband’s favorites and placed it in my cart. While checking out, I was stunned to see the outlaw cracker box in my cart and started crying. Oh Doug, is there no limit to the tears I will shed? Over a box of crackers? Geez, it’s been two years.

There is a measure of comfort in knowing that I am not alone. Grief and loss are part of the human experience.  In the United States there are approximately 12.5 million newly bereaved individuals annually. And 57 percent of adults have experienced a major loss in the past few years of a family member, pet or friend.

The “big days” like holidays, birthdays, or anniversaries seem to be okay for me. But grief is like an uninvited guest that just “shows up.” And it might be on a random Tuesday evening or a simple run to the grocery store. My girlfriend says that since her husband died, “grief never shuts up” so she stays prepared for “sadness attacks” at the oddest times and weirdest of places.

Life is like that. Unpredictable and one heck of a ride. Humans aren’t the only ones who experience sorrow. One of my horses, Baxter, was almost inconsolable when his barn buddy died. He kicked the stall door, paced the pasture and got a stomach ulcer. It took a long time for him to heal and finally “move on.”

Then there was my neighbor’s dog, Lucy, who had a best friend that was a miniature goat called Joey. Every morning, Lucy would walk a quarter of a mile up the narrow dirt road to the neighbor’s property to have a chat with Joey. When the goat died unexpectedly, Lucy kept up her routine and lay down by the fenceline waiting for her friend.

Last year, an orca (known as Tahlequah) in the Northeast Pacific gave birth to a female calf, but the newborn did not survive. Tahlequah carried the deceased calf for eleven days. In 2018 the same orca’s newborn died and she carried it for 1000 miles and seventeen days. Marine biologists called this the “grief journey.” It’s not easy to let go.

Perhaps all living creatures are connected by the “grief journey.” We want to kick the barn door, clutch onto our loved one who has passed, or simply wait by the fenceline for that one familiar face.

 Yesterday I was looking through a kitchen drawer that I had organized, many times since Doug passed. I was surprised to find a folded-up note that Doug wrote, titled “Judy Should Know.” It was a treasure trove of passwords, battery sizes for the alarm, remotes, lightbulb sizes for outdoor lights, and more. I had to laugh because I had an alarm sensor beeping a low battery message, so the timing was perfect.

Maybe it’s not grief that is the journey, it’s life. An amazing, challenging, joyful, sorrowful, beautiful winding road. This week let’s seek out life’s treasures, one note at a time.

Judy Bluhm is a writer and a local realtor. Contact Judy at [email protected] or visit www.aroundthebluhmintown.com.