Month: February 2019

Liam Neeson is doing what we want

Chances are, you do something today that is not going to be socially acceptable in 40 years.

You are going to want to be able to apologize, show remorse, and move on. Lets give him space to do the same. He is not unrepentant, he isn’t saying “you know what? I’m still mad about this. I’m going to get my baton and go out into the streets of Ireland right now…” No. If he was, then go ahead, have at him.

He’s not a fragile man who thinks that you should never apologize. Liam is showing us how to grow. There are some people, who carry the same feelings he carried back when he went looking through Ireland for a black man to kill, who are only going to be open to changing their views when they see that someone else has already changed their views. Who, in the face of social pressure to change, are only going to harden their hearts and buckle down – but who will listen to someone who felt the way they do.

This is how we grow. If we don’t allow space for people to sincerely apologize and atone for their misdeeds, we don’t allow people to move on from the thinking that lead to those misdeeds in the first place. Something about our human brains; owing up to our mistakes allows us to let them go, hiding them doesn’t.

This is made somewhat simpler by the fact that he didn’t actually do anything. He didn’t assault or attempt to kill anyone, even though he meant to for a few moments of his life. This conversation gets more complicated when someone took an action that harmed someone else, but it’s still a conversation to have.

Also, what he wanted to do wasn’t okay then either. But it was significantly more socially acceptable then than it is today.

I, as well as most of you who read this, live in America. I admire a few of the people who founded our country in the late 1700’s, and consider most of them to be good people. Yet many of those men I admire were slave owners and probably misogynists.

Cultures and attitudes change, and in our time they are changing within our lifetimes. If we don’t allow people to raise their hand and say that they were wrong in how they thought, they are sorry and they have grown from thinking that way – then not only do we condemn them for the mistakes and foolishness of the past, but we condemn ourselves. For inevitably, one day we will find ourselves in their shoes.

Llewy is still gone. Here’s what I’ve learned

They said grief comes in waves…

 

First and foremost, I should not have followed the vet’s advice and distracted him with peanut butter while she was giving him his shots. He got so focused on the peanut butter that he and I weren’t able to share his final moments together. There’s no way that the vet could have known that… I should have known that, but I was so wrapped up in my grief that I didn’t realize it. I may regret that decision for the rest of my life. Though I was able to say goodbye, in his final minutes he was focused on his food – and not on he and I being together. I hope one day I am able to let the pain go of watching the life leave him while he was eating when I so desperately wanted to connect with him one more time – but so far I have been unsuccessful in that endeavor.

In my grief and my pain, I did find myself wanting to re-write my memory of his last minutes to fit how I wanted them to go. In the midst of feeling so much pain, I tried so hard to make myself remember his last moments differently. That he did respond when I called his name, that he reacted when he saw me the last time. But he didn’t. I haven’t yet been able to put a finger on why it matters so much to me that he responded to me one last time – but it does.

Today, Ember told me how much she missed him. She told me that she missed how he was always watching over us, protecting us. She’s only 5, and he died 6 weeks ago. I feel like it’s a crap-shoot what she’ll remember of him. But hearing that today reminded me what a presence he was. He made us all feel cared for and watched over. He made us all feel loved, even if he irritated us with how he loved us sometimes.

I’ve never lost someone close to me before. Grief is awful. And, losing Llewy has given me perspective. I feel like I’m more sure to appreciate every moment I have with the people and animals I care about. I also don’t know that I’m ever going to let a dog in the way I let Llewy in. The thought of loving another dog only to go through this again…. right now that seems like too much.

It made a great difference to hear from everyone I heard from in the wake of his passing. Knowing how everyone cared was a boon at a time when everything seemed dark. Thank you, those of you who did that.

Llewy really is gone. I guess it’s still hard to truly believe, because his presence is still with me. I hope it always is.