Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief

Bob the Spider……

When we lost Jack, I refused to kill anything; spiders, ants, moths, bugs, creepy crawlies….I would kindly escort them out of the house and into the garden.

In my grieving mama mind, life is precious in any form.

That summer of Jack I even befriended a spider underneath our front porch light and let him run rampant. The spider grew so big we would go out and admire him at night in his ginormous spider feeding frenzy. I named him Bob and refused anyone to touch him.

I don’t even like spiders.

But I let Bob the Spider live under our light. Hubbie went along with this until Bob grew so big he started to leave spider poo all over the porch. In case you don’t know, spider poo is nasty, sticky and stains a rust-colored front porch.

I never saw Bob after that summer. I think an early frost took Bob to spider heaven. I was content that he lived a good, long, life on our porch.

Since we lost Samantha, I have followed the same no-kill mantra….kind of. I did kill a spider roaming around in my bike shorts. I’m sorry, but if you’re a spider, that’s strike one. Strike two is that you’re randy enough to take residence in my biking shammy which is close to my biking hiney…no way. Sorry spider.

This weekend I found a wasp in our driveway. I don’t like wasps, I think they chase away the bees AND I think they have a secret residence somewhere in the insulation of our house. The recent chill was hard on our particular driveway visitor and he wasn’t doing well. I was about to put said wasp out of his misery when I got a thought that stopped me…..

I looked at my hubbie….

“Samantha wouldn’t ever decided to be a wasp, would she?”

Hubbie gafawed “That precious little thing? A wasp? Never….never, ever, ever.”

So I squished the wasp. Sorry PETA people but trust me; I have escorted several moths, toads, earwigs and grasshoppers out of our house in the last month.

Call me a monster.

But it’s not about the spider or the wasp or my crazy obsession with saving everything. It’s that hubbie and I have a constant dialog about our daughter….even if it’s over the fate of an insect…it’s that we keep on talking….and keep her fresh in our minds.

That is so very comforting to me. We keep on talking. We keep on remembering. Heck, it’s even more comforting than Bob the Spider.

Sorry Bob.

3 thoughts on “Bob the Spider……”

  1. I think Bob's cousin must have taken residence in our Siberian Iris this summer. We've been treating her kindly as well, and despite my husband's phobia, I think he's taken a liking to her – I caught him feeding it a grasshopper the other day (not too kind to the grasshopper, I know).


  2. One year out and we too are constantly talking… she would have loved this or that, she liked this. Sunday it was of course we would have gotten her Tinkerbell shirt to match yours… the talking is good. Thinking and praying for you all often.


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