Jun. 25, 2004 - 20:04 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Churchill's Black Dog

Perhaps I have it wrong, but from what I remember reading, Winston Churchill had bouts of deep depression and he called them the Black Dog. That is all I know about it and don't know why he called it thus.

My black dog who I got rid of, I thought, in 1987, began to follow me all the time Rob was fighting cancer. His Mother and I worried about his hoarseness, but as he always had a sort of raspy voice normally I guess we told ourselves that we were just worry warts. The dog sniffed out my trail and began to gain on me as cancer gained on Rob.

Shortly after Rob's death, Black Dog pounced. The depression is deep but not getting worse, I am faithful in using my antidepressant pills. And I know that I will seek help if it tends to get worse. If I knew then what I know now help would have been asked for by me before I started that route in 1986.

There will be no more putting one foot in front of the other in a gray shroud, not noticing anything really, just trying to get through the day somehow. No more wallowing in an alcoholic haze, it didn't work, just got worse.

As we go on our way I do smell the roses although smell is mostly memories of smell I used to have when I look at the roses. Heather and I have been keeping ourselves busy and have been meeting members of our family more often. In fact having a family of our size who wish to love and get along with each other is an asset of the greatest value to Heather and I.

Each month now there is a birthday, anniversary or some other cause for us to get together and we glady go and help celebrate. We linger longer and talk more and seek means of laughter. Helping to heal each other, looking forward to the day when there will be a scar there from the injury of grief that is just scabbing over now. The scar will remind us that we miss Rob and he will be with us forever in our hearts and minds.

Rob's daughters brought their husbands and progeny here on Father's Day, our middle daughter, her husband and her son were with us. A day or two before Sunday our oldest son and wife had dinner with us and did the Father's day bit then, because they were going to Casper, Wyoming to see their son and daughter and grandchildren on Father's Day. Their son and daughter both are making their lives there now.

How wonderful it is to go from an only, lonely, bonely child and marry into a family so loving and then have children of our own. As our seniors pass on they are replaced with new great grandchildren. I'm wondering if we will still be around when our fifteen year old grandson grows up and gets married, hope so to say the least.

Seems to me like what age takes from a person it is often replaced by something more precious, such as a deeper appreciation of loved ones still living.

It is hard to express myself tonight, yet I must talk to me and conduct my own pep rally. Dog --- begone !!!!

It belongs to him, Churchill's Black Dog . . . . . .. .

Blog