a list for Sesshu Oct 23, ’14
- It got so hot last month you could hear the pine cones cracking open on the trees. The pine seeds fly down onto my porch from quite a distance on their little light brown wing.
- A giant turkey vulture gliding effortlessly in circular patterns over P.G. in a blue sky.
- The morning glory cuttings that Debbie and I planted outside are looking well and sending up new leaves, little sun worshippers.
- The Lord of the Rings movie “Fellowship of the Ring” part of the story by J. R. Tolkien, filmed in New Zealand.
- The bathroom floor covered in pee. My other room-mate always seems like such a sober fellow but I think he gets really drunk at night.
- Debbie’s kittens Samantha and Dylan have already grown to the size of my cat. Dylan still likes me but Samantha is already bored with my…
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Tomorrow is Paul’s memorial. I have such mixed feelings about it. John upstairs is very excited! He was his roommate, and they were so cute together bantering back and forth. I don’t think I saw John smile or laugh very much except for those times.
One of the reasons I have mixed feelings is because I will probably never see his brothers, or any of his family members again. Meeting is brothers was almost like seeing Paul again. Well as least as close as it will ever get.
His brother wants me to read my previous post “In memory of Paul.” This scares me to death since I would rather walk over hot coals than speak in front of a group of people. I wish I had the nerve to do it, I’d love to do it for Paul’s sake. But there’s no way I could get through it without crying anyway. And if the roles were reversed I imagine he would feel the same, and that would be okay with me.
And I’m afraid I’m going to lose it completely anyway, and sob through the whole thing. I’m thinking his family members will wonder,”Who’s that lady over there anyway, and why is she so out of control?” Not being a family member I don’t feel like I have the right, as such, to be so devastated by his death. Silly I know.
And then there’s the decision about what to wear. I know it’s a very girl thing! I’m behind on my laundry as usual, so I’ll have to choose what to wash. Black is definitely out of the question. I have a sort of tie dyed blouse and he used to call me a “hippie lady” when I wore it. I’d like to wear it but it’s much to cold. I’ll figure something out.
And closure? I guess that’s the part I’m really dreading. He’s gone and now we all have to acknowledge it. I’d really rather not.
I’ve always felt so sorry for people/families who have lost a loved one around the holidays. I can’t even imagine the pain, it must be devastating. If you are one of these people, I just want to let you know that my heart truly goes out to you.
I have a friend who lost her only child to an extremely painful form of cancer. I’m not sure if it was around the holidays or not, but she was saying recently how hard it is to face the holidays without any children around. She says she and her husband just try to stay busy to avoid feeling the pain. I doubt that it really works. My heart truly goes out to her.
My best friend, Paul, died the week before Thanksgiving. I sort of rationalized that since it was actually before the holidays begin full swing that I wouldn’t be devastated about it every year. I thought I was doing so well. My heart goes out to his family.
Yesterday, just before Christmas dinner, I got a knock on the door. We really don’t get many visitors, and my first thought was that it didn’t sound like Paul’s knock, and it couldn’t be, unfortunately. It was one of my neighbors telling me the orange feral cat I ‘d been feeding, that I’d named Carrot, had been hit by a car. I was devastated. Lost my appetite for Christmas dinner that’s for sure.
The first time I saw this little guy was out my kitchen window walking on the five food hedge. I’d put water and food out there for the birds and he was drinking from the water dish. It struck me as funny that he was so light he could walk on the hedge, and that he was resourceful enough to find the water.
Later I saw his buddy, a tiny black and white one that I named Jersey. My husband warned me that naming a feral cat was not a good idea since you would only grow that much more attached. But since when did I ever take his advice (lol!) even when it’s good.
It took several weeks to get Carrot to come to me. I kept telling him he’d love pettin’. And when he finally let me pet him he did love it, especially around his whiskers. And he purred, they really know how to melt your heart that way! Jersey, on the other hand, was still very frightened of me and kept her distance.
Yesterday when I went out to feed them he wasn’t there. He had been known to disappear once in awhile during the day but was always back for the evening meal. But he wasn’t that afternoon. And not that night. And now I know, never again. RIP my little Carrot.
This triggered the pain I still feel about Paul and brought it to the surface as well. I’ve hardly stopped crying since.
Paul and I had four cats between us, we had three and he had one, Boo, who had been a feral cat. Within the last two years we helped each other bury them all. It’s one of the things that bonded us as friends. But none of them had died suddenly like Carrot.
When I went out this morning to feed Jersey she wasn’t there. I put out the food anyway and eventually she showed up. I doubt that she will ever be brave enough to let me pet her though.
So now I’m one of those people who will always remember the losses she experienced around the holiday season. And my heart goes out to me.