Blog 96 Endnote: The Gift (Gary)

ENDNOTE: The Gift (Gary)

            We had completed the account of our journeys.  We were satisfied with the work.  And then something happened that broke me open once again. 

            I lost my dog.  My Cedar.

            Sue gave Cedar to me as a fiftieth birthday present.  Sue picked him out of his litter and thus chose one of the loves of my life.  My own puppy: It was like being handed a sacred gift of love.

            Cedar was a lab-retriever mix.  He was my little brother.  I took him to play ball and walked him every day.  He was ninety-six pounds of blond fur.  My spirit animal, I guess.  At fourteen years of age Cedar was struggling to walk and I knew I couldn’t ask any more of him.

            We had a family gathering and put him to sleep on the back deck on an Indian blanket.  He was my bear, my friend, my loyal companion.  Cedar was safe to open my heart to.  I became very depressed.  Sue pushed me to go to the VA for help.

            I had a PTSD assessment in Oakland in 2015.  I asked Sue to go with me.  It was what seemed like a long drive to an isolated area I had never been to before.  It ended at a funky old building on the baylands not far from Oakland.  It was a long wait to see the psychologist that was doing the assessments.  While waiting for the psychologist to do my assessment I chatted with other waiting vets and it was just like being back in the military.

            I was anxious about the interview but felt a sense of relief and support when I found out Sue could join me.  My anxiety increased as we waited over an hour and a half but was relieved when I was finally greeted by a woman psychologist who was a seasoned Navy veteran.

            She questioned me for an hour and a half about my experience in Vietnam and when our time was almost up she asked how I felt about what I had shared.  I told her I didn't know.  I was frozen on the spot.  I couldn't talk but my chest hurt.  I thought I might be having a heart attack.  She asked me again.  I couldn't answer.  I just knew my chest hurt.  She finally asked Sue, “What do you think he is feeling?”

            She volunteered, "Heartbroken."  I lost it and broke down sobbing.  She nailed it.

            It wasn't fear it was heartbreak.  I wasn't scared, I was horribly disappointed and humiliated that I was left alone, abandoned to die in a pathetic, isolated situation with nowhere to go.  Needless to say it was a horribly painful experience, but a therapeutic breakthrough to a depth of feeling I had never felt before. 

            It brought me home to all I have written but hadn’t felt before—MY HEART.

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