Coming to more grips

There was something I realized I forgot to mention this morning in terms of coping with losing Bonnie, and that is that almost immediately, literally within an hour or two of her death, I was being tasked by Dig and his wife with a way to take control of the debt that's been on my back since Twinkle became sick. Suddenly, in all that despair, there was light, a way, a path. Something constructive to take my mind off what had just happened and been going on for weeks, months. I had a project and I grabbed it with both hands. I suppose finding a new place to call home is a part of that. That's going to be strange... surrendering the place Bonnie lived in and breathed her last, and never seeing it again. But on the other hand, never having to see it again, not being forced by my circumstances to glance to my left and see, a foot away, the place she died, every day.

I've talked about how I held up when I faced Bonnie's illness and, finally, having to spare her from suffering by ending her life. Those were, in some ways, practical matters. There was emotion in them, of course; I can tell you right now that if the doctors had said, "yes, we can lick this and she'll have another two good years, but you'll have to come up with another five thousand dollars," I'd have done it without flinching. Even ten thousand dollars. She meant more to me than just the meaner living paying that debt off implies. But over top of it all were the clinic, sensible decisions I was making, without getting balled up about the money. It's not trivial, and obviously it worries me, but I felt it was the right thing to do. But what's got me scared now is when her ashes come back. When there's nothing I can do for her, and everything she was is gone and all that's left is some dust hidden inside something about the size of a coconut in my hands, and that lively, loving girl is set on the wardrobe shelf to sit and collect dust forever... when there's no clinical, hopeful, or morally necessary decision to be made that will stiffen my spine, I wonder then. Will I cry at last? Or close my eyes, sigh, and accept this too?

At this point, I'm honestly not sure which I'd rather. But there'll come a moment when I'll feel both, and I'll have to force that river down one channel or the other.