Snuggle Bunny

Steve and Ton

Birthdays are special days. I turned 47 yesterday, and I had a really sweet day filled with friends, family, gifts, and also tears. I spent the morning journaling and in contemplation remembering Steve and how we fell in love around my birthday 28 years ago. April 1st would have been our 28th anniversary, and this year it is a full moon. It represents the fertileness of new beginnings. This is a time for me to process and heal and remember our love, but it is also the crux of a huge new beginning in my life. A dear friend and my mother asked what I have dreamed up for the year ahead. I didn’t have a lot to say. I know this is a transition and a crossroads in my life, still, I am unclear what the future holds. I guess this is what makes it exciting. I am just getting used to myself as a single entity. I am living alone for the first time in my adult life. I am problem solving everyday tasks with no-one to bounce ideas off of. I am managing a household with just me in mind, letting go of a past life with my partner of 27 years. It is all very strange and definitely is a journey. I know I want to continue in AA, and I have found all of my connections with friends and program folks are becoming more potent. I am just me now. For years I felt such a deep connection with Steve. We hated to be apart and rarely were. We spent all of our time together possible, and the last ten years of him becoming disabled and quitting work, we were around each other constantly. We laughed, joked, and talked. We played cribbage, read trivial pursuit cards, meal planned, and just loved each other and each other’s presence so much. We held hands and cuddled. He told me I was awesome when I took the recycle out, and often told me that I looked good. It was a partnership, and it is a huge adjustment to live without it.

But I am thriving. I am surviving the grief. I am transforming it. I am working through it. I feel blessed to have loved Steve for so long. I am honored to have learned so much from the man. I am grateful that we lived life to its fullest and enjoyed so much nature, food, and conversation with each other. I feel strong. I feel resilient. I slowly am feeling capable. In the beginning I was terrified. I got new keys and locks for the doors and started taking my phone with me everywhere. I was nervous about traveling off island alone, even though I did occasionally do that while we were together.  But this has faded. I am doing things myself and feeling empowered. I am making this home mine. And though I have grieved that I am changing things in our home, it feels good once the sadness passes. The pets are mine alone, which means added responsibility in caring for them. It is so strange to feel the absence of his presence in the home and accept that it is just me, a dog, and a cat. I was fearful about how to handle my difficult German Shepherd without Steve’s support and advice. I am responsible solely for the wellbeing of my pets. Steve had a lot of experience with pet ownership and had spent some time in vet school. I purchased the flea drops and applied them myself. Something Steve always did. He was there to help me with so much. And though I am nervous when I do something new, I am becoming more confident in myself as time goes on. This is resulting in me feeling empowered by the experience.

I do not know what my future holds. I do not know what to expect or hope for in this year to come. I want to know, but I come up blank. I do not have any lofty goals or dreams of vast accomplishments. I very much want to live my simple life where I walk my dog everyday, give my pets treats several times a day, stay home and give them attention, improve my cooking and cleaning skills while taking care of my little home, and write. I work on my sobriety and mental health every day. I do not want to “become somebody”. I do not want to go back to school or start a non-profit. I am not even seeking publishing. I want to simply exist and practice love and magic. I want to sit at the willow tree and watch my dog explore the property. I want to provide a warm and loving lap for my kitty.

When I was a child, only two years old, I had a favorite book called “Snuggle Bunny.” The story showed a solitary bunny who was all alone traveling through the snow looking for a warm place to settle in. There was this acknowledgement of loss or loneliness in the little bunny’s life. Finally, he came across a cabin, and went inside to find an old man sitting in a chair all by himself. The cabin was warm with a fire in the hearth, and the bunny joined the man and curled up on his lap. Life was utterly complete. That is my earliest dream for life. I wanted that comfort. I wanted that companionship. I desired that simplicity. I knew that bunny was lonely. I knew that an old man living alone could have great value, for he had a lap and love to give a simple animal. To this day, this story affects me deeply, and reminds me of a healing journey, nature, and cuddles.