I’m actually okay with it

I can be pretty stubborn. I’m a Taurus. A Bull. I like to think I’m more stubborn with myself than with others. My friends and family may say otherwise. Anyway, my stubbornness has been on point in a household matter with Hank

Hank has had a few run-ins with the kitchen trash can. My 13-year-old best buddy, my Miniature Alaskan Chow Boxaneese, developed a new habit this past year. On one too many occasions, he could not resist taking a peek in the garbage while I was away. He seems pretty restrained if I leave once. I guess he has an annoyance with the rollercoaster of me coming and going a few times in a day. Eventually he gives in to temptation- besides, how dare I leave him alone again.

The trash can was short enough and the lid just loose enough that apparently with some effort, he called it his own and would set off on a grand exploration for meat packaging, bones, tator tots, and anything dairy. I come home to a mess, and even worse, on one occasion a serious stomach problem ensued which took Hank days to recover from.

Hank is super cute when he gets busted. When I ask with concern in my voice, “what happened here?” He averts his gaze from mine, drops his ears back, and rolls onto to his side and submits.  I have to hold in my giggles while giving him a lecture about how this is dangerous for him and could cause bowel obstruction. Ultimately, I take responsibility for it and in short order, he is getting smothered with kisses.

I put the trash can back in place thinking, he won’t do that again; that’s not his normal behavior. Over the subsequent few weeks, I become more careful about what goes in the can, or I lift it onto the counter before leaving the house, just in case. Soon we are back to normal, the can remains on the floor, and eventually we have a new incident.

Why not get a new trash can? One that is invincible. Because I am stubborn. I like this one. And I know he won’t do it again, so why get a new one? My logic doesn’t even make sense. It isn’t based on fact. It is purely my own stubbornness.

I have met people who are stubborn about their grief. That’s my term and my assessment of it. There isn’t just one way to grieve. We each have to find our path.  And I think that stubbornness is part of a desire to stay in control of an immensely undesirable situation.

I see them fighting their feelings. They don’t WANT to feel that way, so they are not going to let themselves. Someone recently told me he was flat out resistant to any form of processing his grief. Another way this stubbornness may show is fighting to stay in deep grief, even after years have passed, believing that moving forward or finding joy again, is dishonorable to the person they lost. I understand this stubbornness and how these battles exist. I am here to admit that in my grief, I have stubbornly held onto to Tim’s clothes as they remain in the closet where they have been since his death.  It’s been five years.

Well, this week I finally went through his clothes with the intention of doing something with them. Carefully checking every pocket. Sorting. Processing. One pile for Goodwill. One small pile to toss. I set aside a few things for family. I hung tightly to a stack of shirts, sweaters and scrubs and placed them in a plastic bin for decided on later. And victoriously, I selected my most favorite items of clothing to pass along to a friend’s mother, an artist and seamstress, who will be making a quilt for Leyla and me, and a pillow for Hank. This felt good, and I’m actually okay with it. Timing is everything even when you are stubborn.

Oh, and I also bought a new trash can. And I’m okay with that too.