I wrote this poem a mere hours before Pepper passed away on Saturday. It was a way from me to express gratitude to those that have been holding me up with such sincere and reliable love and support.
It also was a moment for me to realize who my true tribe is. And who are no longer in the mix. A heartbreaking sadness, to see those who you thought were "lifers" have thrown a dagger of disappointment in to this already sad scenario.
A special shoutout to those angels that I have never met, but that social media has allowed for such a connection, such a bond. All of you have been so wonderful.
Also to my husband, who shows me everyday what marriage is all about, and why it's the most beautiful and precious of gems. Who makes me laugh when I want to pout, who holds me when I'm not cute. :)
To all of you. that have been here for me. I am so so grateful and you have kept me going. It's a beautiful thing. This is for you.
-C
---
Permission
Friends, I give you permission to not know what to say
To feel my pain even though you know it will be ok
To try and avoid the cliches of support
Even tho that’s all that greets your lips when your shoulder is holding court
My loved ones, it’s ok to not know what to do
Watching me fall to pieces, to not feel like my glue
Hearing me cry and mourn is clearly no fun
But I promise, solace I find in your presence as I become undone
In technology, love exists
All the words and messages through social media, I see it persist
Every LIKE, heart, word, and feeling
Fills the gashes this heartache is searing
For my sweet souls who I’ve never met
Who’ve taken the time to catch me in their net
Your gesture collects each tear that I cry
Like a soothing song, a chicken soup lullaby
Your silence is warmly received in your helpless arms where I collapse
Where I find love when I feel bleak, air when I frantically gasp
Where I feel consoled by your presence, near and far
When in those moments, the healing begins to create a scar
Surviving this heartache, reaching for the happiest of goals
Something I can not do without you, my beautiful treasures, the dearest of souls
Monday, April 8, 2019
Karma, a test from God, or just a classic kick in the nuts?
I'm starting to think I was an asshole in a previous life. Someone who made babies cry or put ketchup on pizza.
My sweet Pepper passed away on Saturday. So get this guys? I lost not ONE, but TWO cats in 15 days. I mean, it must have been a lot of fucking ketchup.
It's been a few days and I was feeling . . . better? A feeling not equating death meets expired milk in a septic tank. So an improvement, I suppose.
Today was turning out to be pretty decent. Only cried 4-5 times. Spent time with my mom and brother, had dinner and watched WWE Raw (Wrestlemania aftermath) with my Beloved, almost booked a Mexican getaway (that is MUCH needed), walked 4 beautiful dogs, and finalized my husband's bday gift.
Not in that order. But productive and optimistic.
Did I mention that my husband and my birthday are this month? In addition to our anniversary? Also, baseball opening day. All April. All happy things . . . usually.
Yeah, let's add the death of my 2 fur babies to that.
Anyway, I was about to take a shower, wash this tragedy of a bed hair bun I've been adorning for the last week off, when I received the text:
My first fur baby, Bam, my sweet boy who died 2 weeks ago, is missing. His ashes were lost in transit.
I mean, what do you do with that? How do you brace for that shrapnel kick in the ovary?!?!
I'll tell you what you do, you start plotting WW III!
I immediately planned to print out signs to post near my apartment mailboxes begging my neighbors to please return him, no questions asked (although, who the fuck would steal ashes)? In addition, I made a plan to go to my post office in the morning and cause a scene. Also I made it a mission to wake up nice and early and call my vet and the crematory, and ask them, in what sick, Groundhog Day, "fuck me in the ass life" does this happen?
Instead, I threw up and started crying.
In that order. Which is an unchartered new level of gross, let me tell you.
My husband held me as I sat numb after the debacle of cry puking (now, that is love), caressing my birds nest of a hair bun, telling me it will be ok. And then I laid down, in my bed, wearing my jeans.
My sweet girl joined me. My Gracie, now my only cat. She is definitely having a hard time. Stuck on me like glue:
Special appearance by said bed hair.
Anyway, I texted one of my best friends, telling him I was hanging by a thread, going in to detail about my WW III plan. Luckily, he talked me down. Made me laugh even. For the 4 seconds I laughed, I was so so grateful for that feeling of not being devastated and shattered.
It was a very good 4 seconds.
Actually, no one would actually say that, if we are being frank.
Nonetheless . . .
This grieving stuff has been such an experience. I always felt grateful I was sheltered from death and losing someone you love. I don't know how ppl do it. My own husband has seen it very often in his life time, and yet he is so happy, so optimistic, and doesn't stare into the abyss like I have been doing these last 2 weeks.
Guys, I want to disappear for a week. Take my Gracie and my sweetheart and hide from everything. Stare in to the abyss where the horizon is blue and sunny, the air is fresh and salty, and the Pina colada is cold and never ending.
But for now, I just need to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other. And it's been the hardest goal of my life.
My sweet Pepper passed away on Saturday. So get this guys? I lost not ONE, but TWO cats in 15 days. I mean, it must have been a lot of fucking ketchup.
It's been a few days and I was feeling . . . better? A feeling not equating death meets expired milk in a septic tank. So an improvement, I suppose.
Today was turning out to be pretty decent. Only cried 4-5 times. Spent time with my mom and brother, had dinner and watched WWE Raw (Wrestlemania aftermath) with my Beloved, almost booked a Mexican getaway (that is MUCH needed), walked 4 beautiful dogs, and finalized my husband's bday gift.
Not in that order. But productive and optimistic.
Did I mention that my husband and my birthday are this month? In addition to our anniversary? Also, baseball opening day. All April. All happy things . . . usually.
Yeah, let's add the death of my 2 fur babies to that.
Anyway, I was about to take a shower, wash this tragedy of a bed hair bun I've been adorning for the last week off, when I received the text:
My first fur baby, Bam, my sweet boy who died 2 weeks ago, is missing. His ashes were lost in transit.
I mean, what do you do with that? How do you brace for that shrapnel kick in the ovary?!?!
I'll tell you what you do, you start plotting WW III!
I immediately planned to print out signs to post near my apartment mailboxes begging my neighbors to please return him, no questions asked (although, who the fuck would steal ashes)? In addition, I made a plan to go to my post office in the morning and cause a scene. Also I made it a mission to wake up nice and early and call my vet and the crematory, and ask them, in what sick, Groundhog Day, "fuck me in the ass life" does this happen?
Instead, I threw up and started crying.
In that order. Which is an unchartered new level of gross, let me tell you.
My husband held me as I sat numb after the debacle of cry puking (now, that is love), caressing my birds nest of a hair bun, telling me it will be ok. And then I laid down, in my bed, wearing my jeans.
My sweet girl joined me. My Gracie, now my only cat. She is definitely having a hard time. Stuck on me like glue:
Special appearance by said bed hair.
Anyway, I texted one of my best friends, telling him I was hanging by a thread, going in to detail about my WW III plan. Luckily, he talked me down. Made me laugh even. For the 4 seconds I laughed, I was so so grateful for that feeling of not being devastated and shattered.
It was a very good 4 seconds.
Actually, no one would actually say that, if we are being frank.
Nonetheless . . .
This grieving stuff has been such an experience. I always felt grateful I was sheltered from death and losing someone you love. I don't know how ppl do it. My own husband has seen it very often in his life time, and yet he is so happy, so optimistic, and doesn't stare into the abyss like I have been doing these last 2 weeks.
Guys, I want to disappear for a week. Take my Gracie and my sweetheart and hide from everything. Stare in to the abyss where the horizon is blue and sunny, the air is fresh and salty, and the Pina colada is cold and never ending.
But for now, I just need to figure out how to put one foot in front of the other. And it's been the hardest goal of my life.
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