There are grieving lessons that I've learned over the years. I don't mean the stages of grief or any of the psychological--numerous as they are--explanations of how each person handles grief differently and acceptance of these aspects of life that have no escape. No. I'm referring to the lessons about the difference between death of a loved one after long (or short) convalescence and the death of someone you love that strikes straight out of the blue. Surprise. You didn't see this one coming, did you?
I didn't. Strange thing is that death was a subject we talked about frequently. The "we" I'm referring to is me and my neighbor, Milena. She made her exit sometime between last Sunday evening and Tuesday afternoon--when I received a desperate call from her cousin asking me to do a wellness check. There was a problem however. I informed her that I was in Mexico but would take steps to get one or more of my fellow HOA board members back in Atlanta to check in on her. Had I been there, I'd have skipped this formality as I had a key to her unit as a friend--and not one of her condominium board representatives. Protocol decided what happened after. Both of my neighbors and fellow board members knocked and checked windows but did not enter. Instead they called the police--which was the absolute right thing to do. The police found her deceased. Her faithful companion and love of her life--KiKi--was by her side. The police took the dog to animal control and my friend's body was removed by paramedics about an hour later, so I'm told.
We bought our condo in November of 2021. We were drawn to the in-city seclusion of our building...small by condo standards, only 36 units. We fell in love with the structure immediately and were so pleased when our offer was accepted. Moving took place over the months of October and November and by December, we were getting to know neighbors. We met and engaged with several and got to know them by name. Everyone was extremely kind and helpful. During the month of December, we noticed a lovely young lady walking a massive friendly dog several times back and forth on our floor corridor. We quickly learned the names Milena and KiKi--person and dog, respectively. Milena, young enough to be my daughter, was an interior designer and was skilled at her profession. She was an engaging young woman with kind eyes that belied wisdom far beyond her years. Her smile was infectious and her love for her dog was rekindling a feeling in me that I hadn't felt since we'd lost our dog Eva. It was only a matter of time before I was happily dog-sitting KiKi and getting to know Milena (who everyone else had referred to as Mimi) better than anyone I'd met in Atlanta since we'd arrived in 2018. It does seem to be true that there are those individuals we connect with during this short life on a spiritual level and I know she was one of them. She wasn't just my angel in the ensuing months, years. She was also someone's daughter and someone's cousin and someone's lover. She didn't belong to me. She belonged to the universe. She was the free spirit I always wanted to be. Okay, that maybe I once was. I really can count on one hand how many people had affected me this way through the years. But there it was. A connection! A rare one!
I got to know her so well in the months that followed. She told me everything as I did her...no holding back with no fear of recrimination or judgement from the other. I told her secrets and she told me secrets...none that I'd ever share to a public blog. Just know that they were personal and that she trusted me--as I did her. My husband and I adopted our dog from a shelter in December of 2022. Milena had spent Thanksgiving in Atlanta with us over the holiday and, as always, the subject came up. It was just a matter of time before we'd have the joy of a rescue beside us. KiKi and Frida became quick friends but there was always an underlying jealousy since KiKi was convinced that I was her property. That Thanksgiving, Milena actually ate some of my turkey taking a break from her usually strict vegetarian diet. During 2023, she spent a few months in Florida as her unit was refurbished and repaired from a water pipe burst that happened during a cold snap over Christmas. I was tasked with watering her plants but I missed her. I celebrated her return with more frequent visiting and outings to restaurants and engagements. I was thrilled that she chose to come with our group for my birthday. It was special to have her there. We went to a speakeasy and all of us ended up talking metaphysics over drinks. She picked up the tab as a birthday gift to me. That's who she was. As flawed as our egos are, she shined from within and brought joy to my life. I don't know how to be grateful for that. And I don't know how to grieve that. I don't know.
My current belief system--or the one I'm most attracted to--tells me that we are not bodies. In fact, we never were until some tiny, mad idea made all this up. We are eternal. Perfect. Nothing but Love. Our bodies are piles of dust at some point. Where does the energy go?
When I last visited Milena, we shared some wine at my unit and talked and it just felt so good to be with her. I was grateful even though my stay in Atlanta was just a week. I told her that I'd just read an online article about the psychology behind allowing the pet of a deceased owner to view the dead body of the deceased and spend some time with it. The sole reason for this is that the pet is able to sense death and if they are not allowed to see the body, they will believe the owner had deserted them. That was the gist of the article. I was like "What do you think of that?" She spent no time thinking about her answer and enthusiastically said, "It makes TOTAL sense!" We talked of many other things that evening but this part of the conversation still haunts me for obvious reasons. One of our last text exchanges referred to the anniversary of Frida's adoption. I sent her a pic taken at the shelter. I captioned it "We always imagine she's smiling and thinking 'holy fuck! I've got gays! How lucky can you get?'" She responded with a "haha" click and then this: "She is so lucky!! Everyone is smiling in that pic. What a beautiful family you make." I spoke with her just a few times after that but we always ended our calls with "love you and miss you" so I know those were the last words I ever said to her. I love you, Milena...and I miss you.
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