A blog post by Mary Moscarello. Photos by Mary Moscarello.

We made it to October – just a couple days left in this month. I must apologize for my unplanned hiatus from writing on this blog. I’ve missed writing here and sharing my thoughts with my teeny tiny readership. What kept me away, I can’t begin to say. Yet here I am and continue to be, grateful that my family is healthy and we are all doing pretty okay, considering.

We’re almost done with ten months of the year 2020. This year, marking time has taken on a different feeling. For the most part, I’m going to assume we’ve all just been trying to make the best of what has been an unusual and eventful year. The challenges need not be enumerated – we’re all dealing with them – and there’s no one on earth who’d argue they’re unchanged by this year. Every year changes us somehow, I’d just wager that this one saw some major shifts in lots of people.

Few have escaped experiencing, in some form or another, pain, anxiety, and grief at some point in 2020. No matter when you can pinpoint the beginning of your grief – there’s something significant about that first moment you can recall someone you’ve lost without immediate tears. That moment you can share a memory without the dissolution into sobbing and inability to keep from full on crying.

I don’t remember exactly when, but I do remember that happened for me regarding Bongo when I was on the phone with my mom. Frequent readers have come to know that calls and discussions with her are often fodder for this blog. 

There are some losses for which I probably will always feel that sting in my eyes or lump in my throat, but not every single time. As I’ve moved farther away from the intense pain of losing Bongo, I’ve noticed some things about what takes up residence in my heart.

I’ve observed that there are still tears when I watch a video from the past. Today – thanks to an app that reminds me of things I recorded in the past – it was one of of all of us playing in the snow nine years ago. The joy in the video can be heard, seen and at least by me – fully felt as if it were happening right now for the first time. 

Of course I cry while watching it. But the tears come along with a smile and maybe, just maybe spring from a different place now. I wouldn’t call it joy – but it is definitely not sadness. Yes, I’m still sad I don’t have my dog around me in the physical sense. Intensely sad some days.  

What I am unable to recall as tangibly was that feeling of helplessness during the October snowstorm that downed power lines and left us without power for a while. I can’t even remember how many days we went without power or if it was even long enough to turn on our generator. 

My point is, the grief gave way. I can recall the joy. Other minor details of the day – during which I’m sure were not minor in the least are difficult to recall. It was snowing like crazy – trees still had a good amount of leaves on them, making branches more likely to break and cause more damage. The house was cold. We didn’t have power. But none of that matters today.

A lesson in the all too important aspect of non-attachment and remembering that everything, yes everything is temporary.