The Four Stages of Grief As Expressed Down The Bulk Foods Aisle

After we buried Ziggy the Poolboy and I were in such a state of grief and shock we needed to find something to do with ourselves other than curl into the fetal position and cry for the rest of the day.

In retrospect, that might have been the better option.

Instead, out of some kind of deep seated need for self preservation, we opted for more familiar comfort and dragged our grief stricken selves, along with the Poolboy's clipped and categorized coupons, to the grocery store because that's what we do.

Before we go any further, I want you to understand that as bad as I was feeling, the fashion statement I had going on fully reflected that.

God only knows what it was that I pulled on before we made our way to the vet that morning, but I remember quite clearly that all my jeans were in the wash leaving me no choice but to wear what I refer to as my tweedle dums - a pair of cropped spandex yoga pants that come to just mid calf and aren't really the most flattering.

Add to that, one of TH's big red rugby hoodies, flip flops (in late October) and a baseball cap over hair that desperately needed shampoo and you've created the kind of look I like to call "Dear God, don't let anyone recognize me."

Which provides the ideal beacon for any and all to spot you.

I was just making my way past the bulk foods after filling a bag with roasted unsalted cashews (very good in salads btw) when I heard someone calling my name.

I turn around to see a pretty and petite blonde woman who appears to have recognized me from somewhere despite my swollen, bloodshot, just got back from the crack house, look.

To make matters worse, I had absolutely no idea who she was.

Which I guess must have been apparent because not thirty seconds into our exchange she says "You don't know who I am, do you?"

Not a clue.

"It's Cathy," she tells me, "Glen's wife.

And then I started to put it together.

This was the woman who tried to talk me into joining toastmasters last year - convinced that, even though I speak professionally for a living and am actually pretty good at it, it would change my life.

The same woman who's husband is a well respected addictions counsellor in our area.

People, even in grief I remain neurotic, so that the first thought flying through my head was, "Good Lord! She's going to think I'm an addict and report back to her husband!"

Instead of having her think that, I opted instead for crazy person and proceeded to tell her my dog had just been put down and that though I'm sure I appeared to look high, I most assuredly wasn't.

I ended the exchange with, "Do you shop here often?"

Trapped by the bulk nuts, the poor woman had no other recourse than to continue to make small talk and offer condolences.

To the good, I'll bet it will be a long time before she accosts some other unsuspecting person she barely knows at the grocery store to say hello.

***

After we got home and the groceries were put away the reality of our loss descended upon us.

This was really happening and Ziggy was really gone.

Little did I know Friday evening that the raw craziness of grief had only just begun, and that, for the Poolboy and I, this wasn't going to be something we just "got over."

***

Stay tuned tomorrow for: "I Think We Should Buy Another Dog"

Until then, do you have any stories to share or advice to give on how you got through the initial days and weeks after a loss. If so, I really would like to hear them...

As always, you know...