The Unexcusable Act

It has been nearly a year since my precious baby girl Sylvia passed and I am still consumed with grief and guilt. Every time I look into her brother's distant eyes, every time I look at her ashes, every time I think of her running through the house or laying, curled up, asleep on the perch, I become lost in the abyss that is my grief and guilt. She died at such a tender age. Just 6 1/2 years old, too young to even enjoy the long life that she was destined to have.

To take a human life, whether they are two or four legged, is an unexcusable act; and I blame myself for her death. And rightly so. She was in my care, my child of sorts, totally dependent on me to feed, nourish, and love her. And I missed all the signs. It wasn't because they were subtle. They weren't. Many were quite obvious even to the casual viewer. I missed the signs because it became all about me and not her. I missed the signs because I needed to detach my inner child from her's and her brother's for that matter. I missed the signs because I needed to respond differently to them when they became ill so I didn't get triggered around my own shit. And that is what I can not come to terms with. That, in effect, I caused her death because I took the focus off of her and put it on me.

It's a incredibly difficult thing to accept. That I caused the death of another human being.

I had lunch recently with a dear friend of mine. We were having a serious discussion about life, family, and baggage. I sat there listening to my friend telling her story, bearing witness to it and all of it's challenges. Then, when she had finished, I heard myself saying words of wisdom, ones that were being channelled from her Higher Power through me. They were introspective, questioning, challenging. But the words I heard were not only meant for her. They were meant for me too. It was my Higher Power speaking to me as well. On the long drove home from the Peninsula I heard those words over and over again, radiating out, bouncing back, echoing throughout my grief and guilt. Words that were meant to finally create a path through my deep and abiding emotions. Words that I had, up to this point, denied existed. I am still trying to deny their existence but it is much more difficult now. They're out there, roaming around my inner existence; reeking havoc; causing trouble. Challenging the very foundations that I have come to accept about myself and my role in Sylvia's demise.

So where do I go from here?

That is a very good question, one that at this point I have no answer for.