Growing up, my brother and I were always wanting pets. Living in an apartment for the first few years of childhood -- 8 for me, and and three for him -- we were forced to be happy with carnival goldfish, eventually convincing the parents to buy an actual bowl and store-bought goldfish. None of which ever lived past 30 days or so.
Then one day, we graduated to a parakeet. We had Duchess for quite a few years until one day, she literally fell off her perch, dead, during dinner.
Of course, we used getting Duchess as a springboard for a dog. Mom had no more excuses -- we were old enough to help take care of it and we had moved into a house. And a bird just didn't cut it -- you couldn't play catch with, or walk, a parakeet. So my brother and I whined and begged and graduated to actual hard-core negotiations. "I'll walk the new dog." "He'll make sure to feed it and keep the water bowl filled."
Eventually we won out and wore mom down. Her sister's sister-in-law's dog had just had puppies and we were more than welcome to them.
Cuddles entered the house like a little lamb, but left a little over a year later like the Tasmanian Devil.
Her path of destruction included chewing the entire cord off of my father's brand new power saw; countless shoes and socks that were unwearable or never to be found; digging up a hornet's nest under the porch; chewing through at least half a dozen spokes on the back porch banister; greeting us every morning with a little "present" at the foot of the front stairs, no matter how late we had walked her; tearing up a corner of the carpeting on the back porch, and lots more that I've since forgotten.
All I know, is she was unbelievably cute, and friendly and we all loved her, but....my parents could no longer handle the destruction. No matter how closely we watched her, the minute she had any length of time without us being right there to watch her every move, she destroyed something else.
I remember holding her and crying the night before we gave her away, but I also knew my parents could not be talked out of it.
A year or so later, we got another dog, Brandy, who we then had for over 10 years. He was obviously calmer and way less destructive than Cuddles had been. When Brandy was about 3 or 4, Rebel entered our lives. My brother and his friends, walking home from softball practice had stopped at the edge of someone's backyard to play with these kittens they had seen. The owner came out and offered them one, if they wanted. No one did.
"Gee, that's too bad," she said. "I can't keep them all. I guess I"ll have to drown them in the river." Or, at least that's the story my brother and his friends told.
Every kid took a kitten home that day, relieving the woman of the entire litter. Every kid also got in trouble for bringing said kittens home, but no one returned any of them. Rebel, who had been the runt of the litter, irritated our dog, introduced fleas into the house that summer, which were only eliminated after a professional flea bath and several "flea bombs" being used in the house, and a prescription salve for my mom who got so many flea bites on her shins her legs looked like a war zone; ate like a pig, and was one of the most affectionate cats I'd ever encountered. She died just a few short years ago, at the ripe old age of 21.
I had long been gone from my parents home by then, living in an apartment with a no pets lease. After she died, I felt the longing for a pet of my own, now that I could no longer get my pet fix at Mom and Dad's.
Last year, I bought my own house and adopted a cat. Cleo has been with me over a year, and it is truly a love-hate relationship. The first few months I had her, she cost me hundreds of dollars in vet bills as we tried to determine why she was losing weight. X-rays, blood tests, thyroid tests, you name it, she had it done. The vet eventually found a slight heart murmur, and decided her finicky eating habits were more to blame for her skinniness, than anything else. BTW -- she also has excellent cholesterol and lipid levels, high energy, great lungs, and all her other organs are in tip-top shape.
With that scare behind me, I spent two months trying out different cat foods and people foods on her until I finally found the few flavors of the one brand of food, she'll eat and supplement that with the one treat she likes, and a daily slice of turkey breast. Problem semi-solved. She's gained a pound or two, and cleans her plates so I"m happy. Although, every few weeks, she mysteriously just stops eating one of the above mentioned foods for maybe a week or so, gets a bit skinny, then voila, one day I come home from work, and she eats whatever selection I then give her and she's back to normal. I just don't get it. I think she might be an anorexic supermodel.
I've now moved onto furniture repair -- she's a scratcher, but only when I"m not there. Oh, and she's a jumper, which means I sometimes come home to knocked over items on a good day, broken ones on a bad day.
Thing is, I couldn't imagine life without her and I think that's why pet people put up with so much. We whine and complain about our animals' negative behavior, but in the end, wouldn't give them up. They add something to our lives that at times, is intangible, but definitely worth more than we put out for them in return.
Each nite, as Cleo jumps onto the bed and snuggles in behind my knees to sleep, or curls up on my lap as I type away on PC, I don't even care about the vet bills, the scratched furniture or any of the other things I often find myself complaining about.
She's as much a part of my life as my family and friends.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Saturday, September 17, 2005
The Final Goodbye
This time last week, I was getting ready to travel 350 miles to attend funeral services for one of my longest and closest friends.
I made the trip, and although not one I was at all looking forward to, was actually glad in a very weird sort of way that I had. It provided closure and it also allowed me to truly grieve.
The week following her death, while her family was recuperating in the hospital and some other college friends of mine emailed back and forth about the tragic accident, I didn't shed a tear. Each time I thought of S, it was as though a part of me just didn't quite comprehend that this had actually happened.
But on Sunday, when I got in my car and started heading to her hometown, I knew there was no denying it. In fact, when I got within 30 miles of her home, I subconciously started to slow down instead of going faster. Obviously now, in no hurry to get there.
The viewing was surreal. But it got through to me. She really was gone for good.
While I got a little teary, I didn't actually cry. Instead, I had trouble forming normal sentences. "I'll cell you on my call when I get" I told one friend, instead of I'll call you on my cell when I leave.
When J arrived, we talked for about an hour, reminiscing about parties we had all gone to, visits I had made, etc. and she said something that rocked me to my core. She said that she too, had not really accepted S was gone until she saw her that night in the casket. And all week long, she could hear S in the back of her head, cracking her jokes, saying her trademark phrases, etc.
The same thing happened to me. I would be thinking, "My God, S is dead." And then I 'd hear a phone conversation we'd had or remember a party in college we went to.
I thought it so strange we had both had the same experience.
That night, I spent some time with S's family, talking, eating, reminiscing. And it was actually a happy time. Well, not happy. Perhaps bittersweet is a better word.
The next day was the funeral. That is when it all hit me. As I walked out of the funeral home to the car, the tears that had been intermittently seeping out over the past 2 days, streamed. More tears at the cemetery and the last thing I wanted to do was attend the luncheon. But I also wasn't ready to make the 6-hour drive home just then either.
I went to the luncheon.
It was a needed release. Suddenly, thoughts were again taken up with more mundane details -- finding a seat, getting a drink, using the restroom. We ate and talked and laughed and a couple hours later I was ready to hit the road.
I said my goodbyes and left, wondering if this would be the last time I visited the area and S's family. And before getting back on the interstate, I took a detour back to S's neighborhood and drove past her house one more time. It was empty in more ways than one.
Since then I've been so cognizant in simple things that she will no longer experience -- a cool morning, a brilliantly sunny afternoon, hearing a favorite song on the radio, grilling and eating a juicy steak for dinner, sleeping in on Sunday and making pancakes at noon.
Its made me more aware of, and appreciative of, all aspects of life. Its also made me more aware of how fragile our balance really is in this world, and how there are no guarantees.
I made the trip, and although not one I was at all looking forward to, was actually glad in a very weird sort of way that I had. It provided closure and it also allowed me to truly grieve.
The week following her death, while her family was recuperating in the hospital and some other college friends of mine emailed back and forth about the tragic accident, I didn't shed a tear. Each time I thought of S, it was as though a part of me just didn't quite comprehend that this had actually happened.
But on Sunday, when I got in my car and started heading to her hometown, I knew there was no denying it. In fact, when I got within 30 miles of her home, I subconciously started to slow down instead of going faster. Obviously now, in no hurry to get there.
The viewing was surreal. But it got through to me. She really was gone for good.
While I got a little teary, I didn't actually cry. Instead, I had trouble forming normal sentences. "I'll cell you on my call when I get" I told one friend, instead of I'll call you on my cell when I leave.
When J arrived, we talked for about an hour, reminiscing about parties we had all gone to, visits I had made, etc. and she said something that rocked me to my core. She said that she too, had not really accepted S was gone until she saw her that night in the casket. And all week long, she could hear S in the back of her head, cracking her jokes, saying her trademark phrases, etc.
The same thing happened to me. I would be thinking, "My God, S is dead." And then I 'd hear a phone conversation we'd had or remember a party in college we went to.
I thought it so strange we had both had the same experience.
That night, I spent some time with S's family, talking, eating, reminiscing. And it was actually a happy time. Well, not happy. Perhaps bittersweet is a better word.
The next day was the funeral. That is when it all hit me. As I walked out of the funeral home to the car, the tears that had been intermittently seeping out over the past 2 days, streamed. More tears at the cemetery and the last thing I wanted to do was attend the luncheon. But I also wasn't ready to make the 6-hour drive home just then either.
I went to the luncheon.
It was a needed release. Suddenly, thoughts were again taken up with more mundane details -- finding a seat, getting a drink, using the restroom. We ate and talked and laughed and a couple hours later I was ready to hit the road.
I said my goodbyes and left, wondering if this would be the last time I visited the area and S's family. And before getting back on the interstate, I took a detour back to S's neighborhood and drove past her house one more time. It was empty in more ways than one.
Since then I've been so cognizant in simple things that she will no longer experience -- a cool morning, a brilliantly sunny afternoon, hearing a favorite song on the radio, grilling and eating a juicy steak for dinner, sleeping in on Sunday and making pancakes at noon.
Its made me more aware of, and appreciative of, all aspects of life. Its also made me more aware of how fragile our balance really is in this world, and how there are no guarantees.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
Closure
This past week has been surreal. It started out pretty good. I made a normally long weekend, an extra long one taking off both Friday and Tuesday.
Had a get-together with my old college roommate who was in town for the week, a clandestine happy hour with the neighbors in my backyard, some shopping, had plenty of time to get the lawn mowed, house cleaned and clothes laundered, a first date with a new guy I met, and on Tuesday, I slept in and prepared to just enjoy a day around the house doing whatever the mood struck me to do.
And then the phone call came.
My college friend S, (not my roommate) had been killed in a car crash. The rest of the day was simply numbed by the shock and the realization that something that horrible had happened.
But as I've already blogged, I've continued to go through the motions of daily life, pretty much not grieving. Just perhaps a deep breath here or a melancholy sigh there when I think about S, memories of visits and college and late-nite chats -- all happy thoughts, now suddenly oh so bittersweet.
Tomorrow, I leave for the 6-hour drive to attend her viewing and funeral. A sad trip and one that I'm not really looking forward to, but one I couldn't not make.
Originally, I had intended to stay at a hotel. Her husband has insisted I stay with them. I feel weird doing that, but he was firm in his conversation -- "you're staying here. There are no hotels."
He and I both know S would have wanted it that way too. And truth be told, part of me is glad. Staying at a hotel would make logistics hard. I know where her home is, but don't really know my way around her town very well, and its rural so one wrong turn and you could go miles out of your way. Also, I wasn't looking forward to going back to a hotel after the evening viewing, sitting alone in a hotel room and thinking about the funeral the next day. Lastly, I've been having to budget very strictly lately, and quite honestly, its a blessing not to have to cough up the bucks for a hotel room in addition to the gas to get out there, flowers for the funeral, etc.
And as I was thinking that, it struck me how life trudges on no matter what happens in our lives. I still had to worry about the minute details. Carry through on work deadlines and meet up with friends with whom I had made plans.
When I talked to S's husband and sister today, while I know they are still grieving, they still talked about other things -- a favorite store that had closed in town, the family's recent vacation. I heard the kids talking, and at one point laughing in the background. And I knew that that is how S would have wanted it. Life does go on whether we want it to or whether we're ready for it.
And even while still reminiscing about my friend, I am also thinking about other things. Analyzing the date I had on Monday nite and trying to determine how much interest I have in this new guy. Sending out an application for a job I recently saw advertised that I think will be better than the one I have now. Planning out my next home improvement project.
It still bothers me that I haven't really cried over S's death. But it doesn't surprise me. We were two tough broads, as we used to joke with one another. We put up with no one's bullshit, had a practical and common sense apporach to life, and our friendship was one built on shared good times and humor; where sentiment was conveyed in joke emails, or eye rolls if one of us ever got close to crossing the line of getting emotional.
When S and I discussed problems or issues or personal dilemmas, there was no crying on the other's shoulders or sniffling on the other end of the phone. We bolstered each other up by listening to, but ignoring the emotion, and instead cutting down or advising how to eliminate the thing that was causing the problem in the first place.
My boyfriend wasn't spending enough time with me or was being a prick? "Tell him you want/need him to do x,y or z, and if he refuses or doesn't follow through, then walk" S would tell me, laughing. "Or better yet, give me his number, I'll do it."
Mom driving me crazy, "Awwww, just ignore her. It'll pass"
There were no Oprah or Dr. Phil moments with S. No long, drawn-out soul searching discussions. Identify the problem, think of hte most practical and least time-consuming solution and take care of it. Then compartmentalize. Then afterwards, we could both laugh about it.
I think that's why there's been no wellspring of tears or crying jag. Each time I think of her being gone, I remember something fun we did, or something funny she had said, and I can't help but chuckle.
However, tomorrow and Monday will be very different. It will be a true, final farewell, and no denying that she truly is gone; and all that's left are those fun and funny memories. But that's how she would have wanted it. No use crying over something you can't do anything about, she'd say. Just move on.
I know we all will. I'm just glad for all the memories, and in a way, glad that they are all so funny and happy, that in thinking about her, I'm chuckling instead of crying.
Had a get-together with my old college roommate who was in town for the week, a clandestine happy hour with the neighbors in my backyard, some shopping, had plenty of time to get the lawn mowed, house cleaned and clothes laundered, a first date with a new guy I met, and on Tuesday, I slept in and prepared to just enjoy a day around the house doing whatever the mood struck me to do.
And then the phone call came.
My college friend S, (not my roommate) had been killed in a car crash. The rest of the day was simply numbed by the shock and the realization that something that horrible had happened.
But as I've already blogged, I've continued to go through the motions of daily life, pretty much not grieving. Just perhaps a deep breath here or a melancholy sigh there when I think about S, memories of visits and college and late-nite chats -- all happy thoughts, now suddenly oh so bittersweet.
Tomorrow, I leave for the 6-hour drive to attend her viewing and funeral. A sad trip and one that I'm not really looking forward to, but one I couldn't not make.
Originally, I had intended to stay at a hotel. Her husband has insisted I stay with them. I feel weird doing that, but he was firm in his conversation -- "you're staying here. There are no hotels."
He and I both know S would have wanted it that way too. And truth be told, part of me is glad. Staying at a hotel would make logistics hard. I know where her home is, but don't really know my way around her town very well, and its rural so one wrong turn and you could go miles out of your way. Also, I wasn't looking forward to going back to a hotel after the evening viewing, sitting alone in a hotel room and thinking about the funeral the next day. Lastly, I've been having to budget very strictly lately, and quite honestly, its a blessing not to have to cough up the bucks for a hotel room in addition to the gas to get out there, flowers for the funeral, etc.
And as I was thinking that, it struck me how life trudges on no matter what happens in our lives. I still had to worry about the minute details. Carry through on work deadlines and meet up with friends with whom I had made plans.
When I talked to S's husband and sister today, while I know they are still grieving, they still talked about other things -- a favorite store that had closed in town, the family's recent vacation. I heard the kids talking, and at one point laughing in the background. And I knew that that is how S would have wanted it. Life does go on whether we want it to or whether we're ready for it.
And even while still reminiscing about my friend, I am also thinking about other things. Analyzing the date I had on Monday nite and trying to determine how much interest I have in this new guy. Sending out an application for a job I recently saw advertised that I think will be better than the one I have now. Planning out my next home improvement project.
It still bothers me that I haven't really cried over S's death. But it doesn't surprise me. We were two tough broads, as we used to joke with one another. We put up with no one's bullshit, had a practical and common sense apporach to life, and our friendship was one built on shared good times and humor; where sentiment was conveyed in joke emails, or eye rolls if one of us ever got close to crossing the line of getting emotional.
When S and I discussed problems or issues or personal dilemmas, there was no crying on the other's shoulders or sniffling on the other end of the phone. We bolstered each other up by listening to, but ignoring the emotion, and instead cutting down or advising how to eliminate the thing that was causing the problem in the first place.
My boyfriend wasn't spending enough time with me or was being a prick? "Tell him you want/need him to do x,y or z, and if he refuses or doesn't follow through, then walk" S would tell me, laughing. "Or better yet, give me his number, I'll do it."
Mom driving me crazy, "Awwww, just ignore her. It'll pass"
There were no Oprah or Dr. Phil moments with S. No long, drawn-out soul searching discussions. Identify the problem, think of hte most practical and least time-consuming solution and take care of it. Then compartmentalize. Then afterwards, we could both laugh about it.
I think that's why there's been no wellspring of tears or crying jag. Each time I think of her being gone, I remember something fun we did, or something funny she had said, and I can't help but chuckle.
However, tomorrow and Monday will be very different. It will be a true, final farewell, and no denying that she truly is gone; and all that's left are those fun and funny memories. But that's how she would have wanted it. No use crying over something you can't do anything about, she'd say. Just move on.
I know we all will. I'm just glad for all the memories, and in a way, glad that they are all so funny and happy, that in thinking about her, I'm chuckling instead of crying.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Life Does, Surprisingly, Go On
There's a part of me that still can't believe my friend S is gone. And the thought hits at various points throughout my day, regardless of what I'm doing. And in really thinking about it, I realize that thoughts and memories of her, of our friendship, of her family, have been hovering in the back of my mind pretty much constantly since I heard the news. Its just that every so often, I become fully conscious of a particular thought or memory.
Studying budget figures at work and BAM! I hear her husband telling me she died on Sunday. Driving to the grocery store, going over my list in my mind, and something makes me think of her. We both loved Doritos.
Its not hard for me to get through my daily routines, because we did only see each other maybe once a year, sometimes less, and relied on phone calls and emails in-between. So its not like everything I do or see has memories. Which I guess might be a good thing. I'm grieving, but in a very removed and distant sort of way. Like I wrote the other day, I'm sure the deeper emotions and the tears, will come later; at the funeral services and after seeing her family again.
But what is also strange, is how, it seems for brief moments I can forget the sadness and the memories, while my time and thoughts get taken up with other things.
I had a date over the weekend, before I learned of S's death. He is sweet, nice, a good listener, does things like hold doors and calls when he says he will. I think I like him, but not completely sure yet. The only way I can think to describe it, is that there's no fireworks or real sparks, at this point, (more like embers), and I want to see him a few more times to see if anything will develop.
However, I have to admit that I do find myself waiting for his emails and hoping he'll call again. I was actually upset to find out he's busy this weekend so our next date will have to wait until next weekend.
I was thinking of him this morning on my way to work, wondering if he'd be calling for a weekend date and then trying to analyze the one 3-hour date I had with him. Trying to figure out if I'm interested or not.
I do this to myself all the time, and there are times when I think I am too hard on guys I meet -- expecting them to be completely perfect and writing them off if they fail to meet just one of my standards.
And as I was driving, I could hear S snickering, telling me to just go with it. To stop being so damn hard on these poor guys and give him a chance. "He could be a diamond in the rough" I heard her say, and you'd never know it because he wore sneakers on the first date and you didn't like that.
She had said that once before, when I had gone out with a guy and altho he was nice, I wrote him off for lack of sparks, and a few other things -- like wearing very casual clothes on the first date -- that had, for some reason, really bugged me at the time.
I could also hear her lecturing me: "He's cute, educated, employed, polite, mannerly, he likes you, you kissed him goodnight, you think you might like him -- just go with it for awhile. Its not like there's a half dozen other guys knocking down your door."
And for once, I had to listen and realize she was right. Maybe in the past I have sabotaged myself for fear of being tied down, or losing my freedom. Perhaps my quest for perfection is really my way of ensuring my freedom? Or my safety net? You can't get hurt by other people if you don't let them in, right?
Even in death, S is still a sounding board and still giving great advice. Before, I had almost always listened, agreed that in theory she was right, but then shrugged off her advice as being not right for me at the time. Or, simply giving the advice, because as a married woman, she also wanted to see me married off as well.
This time, S, I'm listening. I'm giving the new guy a chance, despite the fact that he wore shorts and sneakers on our first date, and despite the fact that my stomach didn't do somersaults when we first met face to face.
I'm remembering a conversation we had some time ago, about guys and marriage and dating and my singleness. And you kept saying I expected too much, and I kept saying that I wouldn't settle. And you told me it wasn't settling to accept a guy with faults, or to decide to choose someone based on their potential rather than how perfect they were at the time.
I remember you laughing about a co-worker who joked with her girlfriends, who were so smitten with her fiance, saying, "hey, hands off. I put alot of work into him. You don't think he came out of the box like this, do you?" And you told me that that is what I needed to realize. No man would ever be perfect, I just needed to find one with the right raw materials that I could work with.
And now, reliving that conversation, I'm following your advice. Despite the sneakers and lack of stomach lurching, I have to admit that I do like him, and he's worth spending the time to get to know a little better. And although I almost never would admit this to you before, you're right.
But you already know that. Because I think, even though it sounds ridiculous, that somehow you have a hand in this.
Studying budget figures at work and BAM! I hear her husband telling me she died on Sunday. Driving to the grocery store, going over my list in my mind, and something makes me think of her. We both loved Doritos.
Its not hard for me to get through my daily routines, because we did only see each other maybe once a year, sometimes less, and relied on phone calls and emails in-between. So its not like everything I do or see has memories. Which I guess might be a good thing. I'm grieving, but in a very removed and distant sort of way. Like I wrote the other day, I'm sure the deeper emotions and the tears, will come later; at the funeral services and after seeing her family again.
But what is also strange, is how, it seems for brief moments I can forget the sadness and the memories, while my time and thoughts get taken up with other things.
I had a date over the weekend, before I learned of S's death. He is sweet, nice, a good listener, does things like hold doors and calls when he says he will. I think I like him, but not completely sure yet. The only way I can think to describe it, is that there's no fireworks or real sparks, at this point, (more like embers), and I want to see him a few more times to see if anything will develop.
However, I have to admit that I do find myself waiting for his emails and hoping he'll call again. I was actually upset to find out he's busy this weekend so our next date will have to wait until next weekend.
I was thinking of him this morning on my way to work, wondering if he'd be calling for a weekend date and then trying to analyze the one 3-hour date I had with him. Trying to figure out if I'm interested or not.
I do this to myself all the time, and there are times when I think I am too hard on guys I meet -- expecting them to be completely perfect and writing them off if they fail to meet just one of my standards.
And as I was driving, I could hear S snickering, telling me to just go with it. To stop being so damn hard on these poor guys and give him a chance. "He could be a diamond in the rough" I heard her say, and you'd never know it because he wore sneakers on the first date and you didn't like that.
She had said that once before, when I had gone out with a guy and altho he was nice, I wrote him off for lack of sparks, and a few other things -- like wearing very casual clothes on the first date -- that had, for some reason, really bugged me at the time.
I could also hear her lecturing me: "He's cute, educated, employed, polite, mannerly, he likes you, you kissed him goodnight, you think you might like him -- just go with it for awhile. Its not like there's a half dozen other guys knocking down your door."
And for once, I had to listen and realize she was right. Maybe in the past I have sabotaged myself for fear of being tied down, or losing my freedom. Perhaps my quest for perfection is really my way of ensuring my freedom? Or my safety net? You can't get hurt by other people if you don't let them in, right?
Even in death, S is still a sounding board and still giving great advice. Before, I had almost always listened, agreed that in theory she was right, but then shrugged off her advice as being not right for me at the time. Or, simply giving the advice, because as a married woman, she also wanted to see me married off as well.
This time, S, I'm listening. I'm giving the new guy a chance, despite the fact that he wore shorts and sneakers on our first date, and despite the fact that my stomach didn't do somersaults when we first met face to face.
I'm remembering a conversation we had some time ago, about guys and marriage and dating and my singleness. And you kept saying I expected too much, and I kept saying that I wouldn't settle. And you told me it wasn't settling to accept a guy with faults, or to decide to choose someone based on their potential rather than how perfect they were at the time.
I remember you laughing about a co-worker who joked with her girlfriends, who were so smitten with her fiance, saying, "hey, hands off. I put alot of work into him. You don't think he came out of the box like this, do you?" And you told me that that is what I needed to realize. No man would ever be perfect, I just needed to find one with the right raw materials that I could work with.
And now, reliving that conversation, I'm following your advice. Despite the sneakers and lack of stomach lurching, I have to admit that I do like him, and he's worth spending the time to get to know a little better. And although I almost never would admit this to you before, you're right.
But you already know that. Because I think, even though it sounds ridiculous, that somehow you have a hand in this.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
A Very Bad Day
When I woke up this morning, I had plans. Things to do, errands to run, a beautiful late summer day with perfect weather to enjoy.
Of course, as usual, my best laid plans got a bit sidelined early on. I slept in -- longer than I had planned, then got caught up in the morning news and talk shows, and savoring my coffee a bit longer than necessary and before I knew it, it was going for noon and I was still in my PJs.
Before getting dressed, and finally starting my day, I sat down at the computer to check email and read my favorite blogs. As I was getting ready to answer an email from a friend, the phone rang.
It was A., the husband of S. one of my college friends with whom I still keep in close touch with.
Although I thought it odd to hear him on the other end of the phone, I at first thought nothing of it.
I asked how he was doing. He said "not so good." And my heart skipped a beat. I knew this wasn't going to be good.
He took a deep breath and said he was in the hospital, that he and S. had been out with their kids over the weekend and they were involved in a car accident. I asked how everyone was doing, even though I was starting to feel numb.
While I tried to convince myself that he was calling with an update just to let me know, and that they were all going to be fine and he was calling because S was with the kids, a part of me knew better.
I couldn't deny it when he started going into detail about first his son's injuries, then his daughter's than his. "What about S, " I asked. "How is she?" He paused, and I could hear a choked sob.
"She passed," he said, and I took a deep breath. He gave me the details of the accident, how it happened, and all the while I just kept hoping that this was some grand joke S was playing; that in a few seconds, I'd hear her on another line snickering or telling me I didn't sound shocked enough. Laughing that I could certainly do upset, shocked and devastated better than I was.
But it was no joke, and all too real. The reality really set in when I went online to read the accident story in S's hometown paper. No denying it. She was gone. Just like that.
I spent the rest of the day going through the motions. I raked my yard, did my laundry, went to the recycling center and the grocery store. But all the while, S was in the back of my mind. S, and a very disturbing question. "Why aren't I crying? Why haven't I cried? Is there something wrong with me?"
I still haven't cried, but the gravity has set in a bit more now. Now that there's nothing physical around the house left for me to do. And I find myself losing focus fast for things that I've started. I thought about dinner, took the iingredients out of the refrigerator, and then put them back. I watched TV and flicked through channels. And now, I've come back to the computer and answered my emails and now, blogging.
S's family lives 6 hours away, otherwise I probably would have gone to see them. And right now, A, said both his and her families are there doing what needs to be done and that there wasn't anything I could really do anyway.
Its just so damned ironic. Usually, in the summer, I would visit for an extended weekend; we'd go out for seafood, go rafting, sit on her front porch drinking wine and reminiscing about our college days, and she'd bust me about still not having found a man.
This year, I didn't make the trip. She was supposed to come out and visit me this Fall. She wanted to see my new house and visit with me for a change. We talked about it when she called on my birthday a few weeks ago.
The best laid plans......
Within the next few weeks, I'll be the one going out to visit her after all. But there won't be any seafood or wine or boating. It will be to say goodbye. That is most likely when the tears will come.
Of course, as usual, my best laid plans got a bit sidelined early on. I slept in -- longer than I had planned, then got caught up in the morning news and talk shows, and savoring my coffee a bit longer than necessary and before I knew it, it was going for noon and I was still in my PJs.
Before getting dressed, and finally starting my day, I sat down at the computer to check email and read my favorite blogs. As I was getting ready to answer an email from a friend, the phone rang.
It was A., the husband of S. one of my college friends with whom I still keep in close touch with.
Although I thought it odd to hear him on the other end of the phone, I at first thought nothing of it.
I asked how he was doing. He said "not so good." And my heart skipped a beat. I knew this wasn't going to be good.
He took a deep breath and said he was in the hospital, that he and S. had been out with their kids over the weekend and they were involved in a car accident. I asked how everyone was doing, even though I was starting to feel numb.
While I tried to convince myself that he was calling with an update just to let me know, and that they were all going to be fine and he was calling because S was with the kids, a part of me knew better.
I couldn't deny it when he started going into detail about first his son's injuries, then his daughter's than his. "What about S, " I asked. "How is she?" He paused, and I could hear a choked sob.
"She passed," he said, and I took a deep breath. He gave me the details of the accident, how it happened, and all the while I just kept hoping that this was some grand joke S was playing; that in a few seconds, I'd hear her on another line snickering or telling me I didn't sound shocked enough. Laughing that I could certainly do upset, shocked and devastated better than I was.
But it was no joke, and all too real. The reality really set in when I went online to read the accident story in S's hometown paper. No denying it. She was gone. Just like that.
I spent the rest of the day going through the motions. I raked my yard, did my laundry, went to the recycling center and the grocery store. But all the while, S was in the back of my mind. S, and a very disturbing question. "Why aren't I crying? Why haven't I cried? Is there something wrong with me?"
I still haven't cried, but the gravity has set in a bit more now. Now that there's nothing physical around the house left for me to do. And I find myself losing focus fast for things that I've started. I thought about dinner, took the iingredients out of the refrigerator, and then put them back. I watched TV and flicked through channels. And now, I've come back to the computer and answered my emails and now, blogging.
S's family lives 6 hours away, otherwise I probably would have gone to see them. And right now, A, said both his and her families are there doing what needs to be done and that there wasn't anything I could really do anyway.
Its just so damned ironic. Usually, in the summer, I would visit for an extended weekend; we'd go out for seafood, go rafting, sit on her front porch drinking wine and reminiscing about our college days, and she'd bust me about still not having found a man.
This year, I didn't make the trip. She was supposed to come out and visit me this Fall. She wanted to see my new house and visit with me for a change. We talked about it when she called on my birthday a few weeks ago.
The best laid plans......
Within the next few weeks, I'll be the one going out to visit her after all. But there won't be any seafood or wine or boating. It will be to say goodbye. That is most likely when the tears will come.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Grateful and Helpless
The past week or so, I have loved waking up each morning. Fall is definitely on the way because where I live, we've been blessed with cool nighttime temperatures, and brisk, crisp, cool mornings.
I fall asleep wrapped in blankets, snug as a caterpillar inside a cocoon, and awake to birds chirping, and cool morning breezes blowing through the curtains.
And while I can't help but feel a certain joy in just being alive to experience the simple pleasures like that, and of enjoying a steaming mug of coffee in a cool kitchen, reading the morning paper, the spell is broken each day by the front page of the news.
Pictures of the devastation in New Orleans and Mississippi -- a week after the fact -- and thousands of people are still awaiting rescue and help and having to have gone another day without it. It is heartbreaking and horrifying, and if it makes me angry sitting in my kitchen reading and watching it, while enjoying a freshly brewed cup of Columbian Supreme, I can't imagine having to live through it each day.
And what's worse, is the sense of helplessness an ordinary person can't help but feel. I wish I had the financial means to do something. However, having recently bought a house, and with gas prices spiraling out of control, and winter on the way, bringing with it, higher heating bills than last year (estimates are 20 to 30% higher), the need for new tires on the car, and tax bills and insurance premiums, I honestly can't spare a dime.
Likewise, I don't work for an employer who would look kindly on my taking a sabbatical to physically do something.
For now, my thoughts and prayers are all I can offer, and I'm trying not to feel guilty when I get to enjoy the simple things these people have had ripped from their grasp for who knows how long.
Things like mowing the lawn and weeding, which I spent most of my Saturday doing, and then getting to enjoy the fruits of that labor on Sunday when I spent a couple hours on my porch, overlooking my freshly manicured lawn, while reading and sipping iced tea.
Or, taking a long hot shower after a hard day at work or after coming home from the gym from a long workout.
Hell, even doing laundry seems like a privilege when one considers these people have been wearing the same clothes for a week.
Yes, while my life is far from perfect, and not without its challenges and struggles and stresses (and believe me, I have quite a few!) something like Hurricane Katrina puts it all in perspective and has made me count and appreciate my blessings even more.
Even my friend L, whose husband recently lost his job and is now working at a lesser job making probably a third of what he did before, has said the same. While she too, worries about being able to pay their bills in the shadow of exorbitant gas prices and the approaching winter and heating bills and such, she said she realizes how it truly can, always get worse.
I'm just glad that relief is finally reaching these people and in a way, grateful for how it has made me, and several of my friends, realize that no matter how bad we may have things on occasion, or think we have things, we still have plenty to be thankful for.
I fall asleep wrapped in blankets, snug as a caterpillar inside a cocoon, and awake to birds chirping, and cool morning breezes blowing through the curtains.
And while I can't help but feel a certain joy in just being alive to experience the simple pleasures like that, and of enjoying a steaming mug of coffee in a cool kitchen, reading the morning paper, the spell is broken each day by the front page of the news.
Pictures of the devastation in New Orleans and Mississippi -- a week after the fact -- and thousands of people are still awaiting rescue and help and having to have gone another day without it. It is heartbreaking and horrifying, and if it makes me angry sitting in my kitchen reading and watching it, while enjoying a freshly brewed cup of Columbian Supreme, I can't imagine having to live through it each day.
And what's worse, is the sense of helplessness an ordinary person can't help but feel. I wish I had the financial means to do something. However, having recently bought a house, and with gas prices spiraling out of control, and winter on the way, bringing with it, higher heating bills than last year (estimates are 20 to 30% higher), the need for new tires on the car, and tax bills and insurance premiums, I honestly can't spare a dime.
Likewise, I don't work for an employer who would look kindly on my taking a sabbatical to physically do something.
For now, my thoughts and prayers are all I can offer, and I'm trying not to feel guilty when I get to enjoy the simple things these people have had ripped from their grasp for who knows how long.
Things like mowing the lawn and weeding, which I spent most of my Saturday doing, and then getting to enjoy the fruits of that labor on Sunday when I spent a couple hours on my porch, overlooking my freshly manicured lawn, while reading and sipping iced tea.
Or, taking a long hot shower after a hard day at work or after coming home from the gym from a long workout.
Hell, even doing laundry seems like a privilege when one considers these people have been wearing the same clothes for a week.
Yes, while my life is far from perfect, and not without its challenges and struggles and stresses (and believe me, I have quite a few!) something like Hurricane Katrina puts it all in perspective and has made me count and appreciate my blessings even more.
Even my friend L, whose husband recently lost his job and is now working at a lesser job making probably a third of what he did before, has said the same. While she too, worries about being able to pay their bills in the shadow of exorbitant gas prices and the approaching winter and heating bills and such, she said she realizes how it truly can, always get worse.
I'm just glad that relief is finally reaching these people and in a way, grateful for how it has made me, and several of my friends, realize that no matter how bad we may have things on occasion, or think we have things, we still have plenty to be thankful for.
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