This afternoon one of the cats brought a small wren into the living room. She let it go, of course, and it flew into the sliding glass doors and then fell behind a cat bed. I picked it up and held it in my cupped hands while it shook. I went to stand on the deck with it still in my hands and I noticed it's eyes closing and the trembling stopping. It just sat quietly while I cupped it gently in my hands and said, "dont you dare die on me." I must've stood there holding it for ten minutes, willing it not to die, when it simply flew out of my hands to the beam on the far end of the porch. It sat there for a couple of minutes, looking around before it flew off into the trees. Miracles abound. I needed that today.
When Peggy came to take me to run errands and get some lunch I was pacing the living room. I felt like I was crawling out of my skin, being in the house. Being on the property. Couldn't think or even feel really, just restless and antsy. I needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Grief class again tomorrow, I'll probably find out that this is a normal part of the process. Maybe they can explain it to me, maybe it's time to get out of the house and back into the world. Somehow that feels like cheating, it's too soon, if I move on I'll, well.....move on. But if there is one thing about this whole process that seems to stay true it's that conflicting emotions are par for the course. It's exhausting.
I need to call on those folks who offered to help, but it takes so much energy and half the time I have no idea what I want so I have no idea what to ask for.
I found myself wondering what the wren would remember about her time in my cupped hands. Would it affect her life in any way? I have always anthropomorphized everything, so I like to think that time today had some kind of effect on her. I hope she felt held and cared for and safe and it gave her the time to gain the strength to fly away again into her life. It's what I want for me, so I will imagine it for her. I could do worse.