Rainbow bridge

My sister’s cat passed away early this morning. It is just so sad and so awful to lose a pet. I have never experienced this myself (I have been a part of putting family pets to sleep, but not my own). I have two cats and they are the loves of my life.

My female cat is 15 and is equal parts beautiful and mean. She has never really ever warmed up to anyone else besides me. She is a “one person” cat. I got her shortly after I got married. I was having a hard time with anxiety- it was the beginning of my issues with panic attacks and agoraphobia. I would beg my husband daily to get a cat. He was firm in never wanting a pet (this should have been a red flag). He never had one growing up, but I always had animals in my family. Finally, after going to Vegas on a trip that I was nervous to be left alone during, my husband left me a card saying to get a cat while he was away. I was at the animal shelter within an hour. She picked me, as it often happens. I got rid of the husband after about five years, but the cat is still my baby. Even if she bites me every time I cut her nails.

My boy cat is the sweetest, funniest cat ever. He is so playful and personable. He is basically a dog trapped in a cat’s body. He is able to make people who claim to not like cats convert. I got him after I got divorced. I kept the house and was all alone with just my first cat. I went to a pet store to get her food and there was a sign “spend $25 and get a free cat”. I am against “shopping” for pets, but the manager told me that it was a stray kitten someone found behind the store. It was love at first sight. I spent the $25, collected my free cat and then proceeded to spend close to $1,000 on all his various health issues (still the best money I’ve ever spent!!)

I dread so much the day I have to say goodbye to them. I try not to even think about it. But my sister losing her sweet girl cat was a harsh reminder that we unfortunately usually outlive our fur babies. Needless to say, they are getting so many extra cuddles and treats today.

Gone, but never forgotten

Dear M,

One of the things I have had a lot of difficulty with since you passed away is the fact you did not have an obituary. At the time, I think your parents were so overcome by grief and the logistics of dealing with your apartment that they just were not even able to think about that. I know you said you did not want a service, which I reiterated to your mother, but I never imagined that you would not have an obituary. I kept waiting and checking online to see if one was posted. It feels so unfair. You had so many accomplishments, so many people who cared about you and it feels like your family just wanted to keep your death so private…almost like they were ashamed of you. I have never been ashamed of you, my love. Meg passed away a couple of weeks ago. She suffered much the same way you did and her family wrote and printed an obituary. She deserved that. You deserved that.

Many people, including my sister and my therapist, have recommended that I write one for you. Not to publish or for anyone else to read, but just for myself…and for you. I have put it off because I thought it would be too hard, too sad, but in a weird way it wasn’t. I kind of enjoyed writing it because I am proud of how much you accomplished and it reminded me of so many of your wonderful qualities. Just because someone struggled with addiction and mental illness does not take away from all of their positive traits and doesn’t diminish their achievements. Those things ultimately did not define you. But these things did:

MCH (1983-2021)

            Son of C. and C. Brother to A. and her husband, D. “Funcle” to G. and J. Godfather to M.E.J. M. is survived by many cousins, friends, coworkers, and the A. family.

            Growing up in BT, M. attended MLHS and the U.D., receiving a B.A. in Sociology. He later attended W.U., receiving an MBA. After successfully becoming a PMP, M. landed his dream job with MLB., where he was able to travel to Europe several times.

            An avid Yankees fan, M. attended games regularly. He loved bowling (and once scored a 298!), scuba diving with his father, and listening to music.  M. could often be found sitting on his deck, smoking a cigar, and streaming a baseball game, while simultaneously blasting songs by The Rolling Stones or Biggie Smalls.  M. was famous for his extensive shoe, sneaker, and watch collections and loved showing them off with pictures on Instagram (#sofreshandsoclean).

            M. is predeceased by his grandparents and his beloved black Labrador retriever, J.  No doubt she was waiting to greet him, and they are now reunited, playing ball for hours, taking long hikes, going for rides in his truck, and swimming in a beautiful lake. M. loved dogs “more than most people” and volunteered with the SPCA. In lieu of flowers, please make donations in his name to that organization.

♥️

Memories: Part 1

Dear M,

All throughout the day, I think about how I want to write to or about you. It is just so, so difficult to actually DO it. I have so much I want to tell you or things I want to write about you- about us- but now that I am sitting here, I have writer’s block. I think it also makes it real. If I am writing about you being gone…that means you are gone. How is that possible? It has only been two months since you passed away and I can already feel vivid memories of you fading away. I want to remember everything about you. It feels like the harder I try to recall certain things, the harder it is, almost like they just have to come to me organically. So many things remind me of you.

It’s crazy because I think throughout the day how I want to talk to you, but even if you were alive, we were not communicating like that. I see something funny or a meme or a news story and my gut reaction is to text you. Then I remember.

Baseball season is starting. I think a lot about all the things you won’t ever do again- like watch another opening pitch or take your nephew to his first Yankees game and buy him a hot dog and souvenir. Obviously anything related to baseball or MLB reminds me of you. I remember when we went to the new Yankee stadium for the tour. It was such a beautiful day and I have those photos of you and us in the dugout. When you got your new job, I remember decorating the house with baseball balloons and cupcakes and plates and decorations and big league chew packets. The people at the party store probably thought I was having a party for a seven year old 🙂 Even though going to games at the stadium were fun, my favorite memories were us on the deck. You would bring your computer out and stream the game. The dog (and sometimes the cat) would sleep at our feet in the sun. Sometimes you would grill and when it got dark out, we would turn on the strands of lights and burn citronella candles. I remember us hanging those lights- it is such a funny memory. We spent an hour positioning them around the deck, stapling them so carefully to the posts. When I flicked them on for the first time, it was beautiful. Then you went to adjust one and got shocked and the whole strand blew out. You were so angry and frustrated, but we both managed to laugh about it. Then we tried again, but used clips instead and they are all still hanging to this day. The little black mark is still on the vinyl of the house from where the bulb exploded.

Last night, I was reading old emails between us before I fell asleep. I haven’t been able to do that- or to look at letters or cards or anything like that, so it felt like a step. It was so bittersweet to see the evolution of our relationship, from hooking up to starting to care about each other, to becoming “official”, to the struggles of being long distance, to you moving in with me, etc. Many of them were mundane, everyday, silly conversations, but a lot of them were about feelings (or “feeeelings” as you would sarcastically say lol).

One of the first serious emails was from November of 2011 and in it I wrote to you: “I know you think this world wouldn’t really be drastically different without you in it…but please know that MY life would be missing something if I didn’t have you.”

Several people have said to me that I had to have seen your death coming. I didn’t. I really, honestly didn’t. I’m so angry that in some ways if does seem like the world is not drastically different without you in it. I want to yell from mountaintops and tell random strangers that you are gone and about your life. He existed! I know there was nothing on social media, I know there was not an obituary, but he died!

But, my love, the other thing I wrote is undisputedly true- MY world is missing something without you in it. It is forever changed and will never be the same. I will never be the same. And I promise to try to hold on to every single memory that I can.

Is it better to have loved and lost…?

My exboyfriend arrived back in our town on Thursday.  He rented an apartment less than two miles from my house.  He was supposed to stop by with the dog around 5 pm, but texted me the move was taking longer than expected and he would either come later or over the weekend.  I did not hear from him again until 9:30 pm.  I was already in bed, so I put his call to voicemail.  He immediately called back again and I answered.

“I think the dog is dead.”

I knew our dog was not doing well and was suffering.  I had said my bittersweet goodbyes to her two weeks ago when he left and took her with him to visit his parents.  I believed that she would live out her remaining days down there, in the sunshine and warmth of the South.

“What? Are you sure?”

I had been nervous about seeing him all day.  I felt so many different emotions.  Resentment for him moving so close to me without even asking how I felt about it.  Worry about how his health is and that he hasn’t gotten any professional help yet.  I missed him, I wanted to see him, I never wanted to see him again…I was all over the place.  I sort of just needed to get the first time seeing him over with.

“I left for 20 minutes and when I got back she was lying against the door.  She’s not moving.  Her eyes are open.”

I took control.  It is what I always did.  It was why he called me.  He knew I would know what to do.  Regardless of what happened between us and my demand for more space and time from him, this was something I knew he couldn’t do alone.  And I didn’t want him to.  I called the emergency vet and arranged to bring her in.

“Get her to the truck and come pick me up…we will bring her in together.”

I got into his truck, the backseat was dark and I couldn’t see her lifeless body.  I didn’t want to.  He was trying to keep it together.  He called his parents to tell them and failed to mention I was with him.  I let that go- not important.  They did not show much acknowledgment or appreciation for the 26 days of my devotion to him in the hospital (or the 8 years throughout our relationship), so I wouldn’t expect it now.  It was so hard not to reach over and take his hand.  I stuck mine deep into the sleeves of my sweatshirt and crossed my arms.  We spoke very little on the way there.

We both got a chance to say goodbye to her in a private room.  Even though my already broken heart shattered into more slivers as I kissed her nose and whispered into her soft ear, I was more worried about him.  I left him so he could have some time alone with her.  Walking out of the office, I turned to hug him in the parking lot.  He was stiff and patted my back and I could tell he did not want to be touched.  It felt like a rejection, but I know he was just trying to hold it together.  When he dropped me off, I tried to get him to come in and talk and he refused, but I know that my ulterior motive was that I wanted to prevent him from drinking if he was planning to.

I couldn’t stop him from drinking when we lived together and I saw him every day.  I certainly cannot control him now.  I am just SO SAD all the time.  It is like one thing after another.  Just last week, my mother had a cat scan of her lungs and they found a nodule in each one.  I can’t even think about it.  It’s just too much.  My therapist said that I am focusing on him so much so I don’t have to deal with how I feel and my own pain.  It is just too overwhelming and I do not know how to even begin to process everything that happened.  I am genuinely worried about him, too.  I know I “shouldn’t” be and he “isn’t my problem anymore”, but how do I just stop? When he is sick or depressed, how do I not check on him? I feel angry and frustrated because after everything his body went through, he is not taking care of himself.

I am consumed by so much grief and so much loss.

“It takes a minute to have a crush on someone, an hour to like someone, and a day to love someone… but it takes a lifetime to forget someone.”
― Kahlil Gibran

From Meh to Ugh.

I have been hanging on by a thread in my relationship.  Our dog has been very sick and I think her time left is limited.  She was originally my boyfriend’s dog and she was four years old when we got together.  She was eight years old when they moved in with me and she’s twelve now.  My boyfriend has been a complete mess over it, which I understand because I have two cats that are the loves of my life and obviously I feel like the dog is mine as well (I have been her mom for eight years).  My boyfriend has been using her illness as an excuse to drink more…because, you know, alcoholics look for ANY excuse to drink.  In the back of my mind, I have been biding my time and plotting that once she is gone (my heart hurts to write that) and some time has passed to let him mourn, I was going to ask him to move out.  I just can’t live with him anymore if he is going to continue to drink.  He has been working on himself and going to a therapist and a meeting a week, but it isn’t fixing the problem.  I love him, but not enough to continue sacrificing my happiness.  But, I decided to be patient and wait for the right time.

And then he got fired yesterday.  Fuck.  Me.

Now I feel really trapped and I don’t know what is going to happen.  I suppose miracles happen and he might actually use this time to work on himself, his health, his problems and our relationship.  I don’t expect him to turn things around overnight and I am still willing to be patient, because I truly do care about his well-being.  However, if he spirals downwards and drinks more and sleeps more, I think I need to set a time and then give him an ultimatum of rehab or moving out (pretty much being certain he will not choose to go to rehab).

I don’t mean to make this about me, but well, I guess this blog IS about me…I understand he is going through a hard time with the dog and I have heard from other people how traumatic it is to be fired and I have anxiety, so I know him having depression is not his fault.  He truly is such a good person, but I am not sure how much longer I can wait for him to be a good person for ME.