Time is funny.
We waste a lot of it. Either being overwhelmed with the past — feeling guilty or sad for what has already happened, or being stuck in the future — worrying about what might or might not happen. This is what anxiety is made of.
But there’s nothing like a loved one’s prognosis of “2-6 weeks to live” to make time stand still.
That moment really stung. I reacted emotionally, as you might have noticed by my last blog post about Ozzy. Over the next few days I felt like a victim, which isn’t my normal style. I was angry. I was sorry for us. I had regrets. I was desperate to change our reality.
My energy went into resisting Ozzy’s diagnosis and all that would surely follow. So, I prayed for strength, peace, and a deeper understanding to guide me through this f*cked up situation.
Then a shift happened: I accepted that Ozzy is going to die.
I have chosen to not allow his inevitable passing to consume my thoughts and take away the precious moments I have with him right now. Trust me, this is a conscious effort on my part. It doesn’t come naturally and isn’t easy; it’s tough inner work. I’m no expert, but it feels like the right way to be right now.
I surrendered to what is and immediately started living in the moment. When he had a setback the other day I didn’t freak out. I wasn’t thinking about how long he has or what the end will look like. I’m living and loving with him in the moment and handling our business as it comes.
Ozzy is not his failing body. That is just his form. I know when Ozzy leaves his physical body he’ll still be supporting me on my road to becoming the best version of myself I can be in this lifetime. He’ll just be doing it with my Angel Team above.
So, what really matters now? Paying attention. I’m taking time to talk to Ozzy. Pet him slowly. Feel his curly fur between my fingers. Revel in the joy I feel when he kisses my cheek. Cheer him on when he navigates my steep set of stairs on his own once again. Smile when I talk to him and it appears he can see me because he’s looking right through me with those beautiful light blue broken eyes. I want to remember all of this.