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The first thing I felt, as you might imagine, is a sense of panic.
Monkey! My monkey! Where's my monkey!
It is a terrible feeling, but it fuels the frantic search that comes next. Ripping sheets from beds and spare tires from trunks and gophers from holes.
Then comes despair. A hollow-eyed, brain-numbing sense of loss, of finality. Despair is often accompanied by beating one's head against the pavement, ripping one's hair from one's head, and slamming one's fingers in a car door, repeatedly.
But as Vincent Price once said, you can only take so much horror before you get used to it. Then the numbness and despair pass.
And are replaced by a feeling of release.
Hey. I don't have to pick up after that filthy, lousy monkey any more.
And that is a beautiful feeling indeed.
This sort of reminds me of the time I lost my --
ReplyDeleteoh, wait, there it is. Never mind.
I can't relate at all.
What you've experienced is commonly called the Cycle of Grieving. You should expect to go through it again several times before you're finally able to come to complete acceptance. Try to find a caring, empathetic person to help you through this difficult time.
ReplyDeleteI'd ask your friend to help you refrain from beating your head on the pavement any further. That could prove to be a mistake you'll come to regret.
Now who will you yell, "Dance, monkey, dance!" at?
ReplyDelete.
ReplyDeleteMelon (sp?): Someday, I fear, you shall.
DG: Thank you. Thank you. I will.
MF: Aiieeee! My muse is gone!