My Dearest Obi –
It has been 96 Days since you left us. That’s three months and 4 Days. And not a day goes by that I don’t think about you. You will always be my baby and I cannot wait until we meet again. Maybe we already have. For today we adopted Loki. He is a very special (early) birthday present to me from my dearest friend, who knows how much I miss you.
Loki is almost 8 weeks old and looks very much like you did as a puppy. I would love it if he were you coming back to earth to spend another life with me. Only time will tell if that’s possible. But regardless, you will always be special to me. I will Love Loki as much as I loved you, and I hope he loves me as much as you loved me. Please watch over your little brother, and if you can, please help him learn the ropes.
I will love you forever my Obi. 🐾💙
I thought I was getting better; healing from the loss of my sweet Obi. Each day seems a little easier. There are still small, sad reminders. My evening routine of giving my Obi food and water has been replaced with watering Obi’s tree…the tree we planted in his memory. But oh how I wish I was tending to him and not a tree. With his illness he would often get up at night to go out. I still wake up at 3 am, expecting him to be there and ready to go out. There are countless other triggers that bring on sadness, but I am slowly learning to deal with them while replacing the sadness with good memories.
Then something so sweet, so beautiful takes place that the hurt is unleashed once again and the tears flow freely. Yesterday was one such day. I came home from work, no longer feeling the urge to cry when Obi doesn’t greet me at the door, as my daughter’s cat, has so lovingly volunteered to fill that void. She has been so loving and sweet, but I still feel the sadness. I found the mail on the counter as I normally do, and what appeared to be two cards were on top. First I open a beautiful card from one of my best friends, Lori. She actually took the time to buy and send it while on her family vacation. I could feel the tears building in my eyes, but I was still alright and touched by her thoughtfulness. I love you Lori. Thank you.
Then I opened the other card. This one was from my vet and his staff. Such beautiful words were written by everyone in the office, and because we frequented the vet so often these last few months, I knew they were sincere. They had gotten to know me pretty well, and they loved my Obi. I couldn’t hold back the tears and started to cry, and once again I relived his final moments in my head. But then I noticed something on the card. A paw print. At first it seemed like it was a part of the card and I didn’t think much of it. Then I noticed how it wasn’t centered, it was imperfect and smudged, and there was a small smudge from ink elsewhere on the card. Could it be? It is! IT’S MY OBI’S PAW PRINT! Now I was crying hard. Paws once so large for such a cute little puppy, but we were blessed that he would ultimately fill them. Once he even sliced one of his paws open, our first of a few major vet visits. So many times I heard those paws dancing through the house out of pure happiness. So many nights I lay in bed massaging those paws, sometimes tickling him and he would pull away. So many happy memories. Now so many tears. Such a beautiful gesture from the most caring veterinary clinic I have ever been to. It’s not my baby, and it cannot replace him, but I will treasure this card for eternity, for it bears a part of him that I will never see or touch again. Such a precious memento.
I will always love you Obi. 💕🐾
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 9,100 times in 2014. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 3 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.
Click here to see the complete report.
Happy Halloween. But this post isn’t about Halloween, it’s about death. More specifically, my death. This is the time of year death is talked about quite often. More so when someone happens to pass away as well. This week has revived my thoughts about my own death. This year I had a new will drawn up, but the attorney left out one important detail that I wanted to have included….my death (or burial if you will). I dismissed it, but now I am back to thinking about it. I need to make my wishes known. So what better place is there for me to make my wishes known then right here, where everyone will read them, and no one can question what they were!
I do not wish to be buried. I know, shocking right? As much as I love a creepy cemetery and a large Gothic looking tombstone, I really would rather not be buried to be dug up years later for a housing development or the like. Instead, cremate me (but make sure I am really dead first!) and spread my ashes to the wind. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. This is as it should be. If my family wants to hold on to a part of me, then keep a smidgen of those ashes, perhaps in one of those new little floating charm necklaces or in a small little jar. But let the rest go. My body, my ashes, they are not ME. They are just what will be left of this vehicle of a body my spirit has used to get through this life.
Most importantly, I DO NOT want a funeral when I die. I want a PARTY, a Wake if you will (a party loud enough to “wake the dead”). I do not want people to dwell in sadness of my passing, as I believe it is a return home to “the Other Side”. I look forward to the next adventure in my spiritual existence. So please do not mourn my passing. Instead, celebrate my life. I want money from my estate (amount yet to be determined) to go towards this party. Let there be an open bar! Drink and be merry (but be sure to have cab rides ready to take your drunken asses home!).
Now I have always joked that I wanted to throw something crazy in, such as everyone has to wear red to the party, but that would be silly. Maybe I should have everyone dress in costumes like they would for Halloween (regardless of the time of year)…now that would be fun…especially if it were in Spring or Summer! Anyway, I will have to think about this one little stipulation later.
But I think that this pretty much sums it all up. I want to be remembered in life. I want to be remembered for happy times, even if it is for the final party I can throw in this life. Most importantly, I just want you to be happy and smiling as my spirit tries every way I can to pull a few last pranks on you. 😉
I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “If the shoe fits, wear it”, Well I feel like I’m finding out that if the shoe fits it doesn’t necessarily mean you should wear it. They may be uncomfortable, give you blisters, or just flat-out be inappropriate for the environment you are in. Ok so by this point you are probably thinking, “What is she talking about?” Well for starters let me explain my mindset today. I feel like I don’t belong where I am. I’ve jumped between real work, school work, and my poetry. None of it is keeping my interest or focus today. I feel out of sorts, like I’m in the wrong place doing the wrong thing.
In my case, doing what I’ve done for so long, I am very good at it – “the shoe fits” so to speak. But quite frankly I’ve always been good at anything I’ve done. And today I just feel like these aren’t my shoes. I have the urge to cast them off into a corner. Maybe there are better shoes suited for me elsewhere, but I don’t know where. Maybe I just need to run barefoot and free. At this point I’m not quite certain what I need or what I am looking for. I can only tell you this….I need to go shoe shopping.
This year has been full of changes….and we are only in the first month! Aye aye aye!
First – my oldest daughter, Virginia – After three years at an academically advanced school, we have decided to change her back to our locally zoned school. Why, you may ask? Well…..we have come to find that in a school where every child is smart, it is easy to be overlooked. That’s right…my smart child was the overlooked one. As if that isn’t bad enough, there is a different kind of bullying that takes place at an advanced school. Even though the lower classes are more advanced than in a typical school, if you are in the lower class instead of the advanced classes, the kids tend to tease you for being in the “dumb” classes. It’s really sad that so much pressure is put on children at such an impressionable age. So after several months of “Mom, I’m sick” and “I’m stupid, I can’t do it”, we had a heart to heart with Virginia and discovered these problems. So after winter break, we moved Virginia back to our zoned school. What a wonderful choice! On Virginia’s first day, I took her to school and we met with the guidance counselor. If you ask me, we had all-star treatment. She was placed and welcomed by best teachers. Her science/math teacher, immediately took her under his wing when he found out she wanted to be a microbiologist and that was his major. Even though she had not been in algebra in her other school, being the algebra teacher, he wanted her in his class and said he would work with her to get her up to speed. Wow…it felt like we were getting the red carpet treatment! Now here we are three weeks in and we are all so much happier. Virginia went from too much homework every night to no homework at all, and is loving her teachers. I am loving my peaceful mornings (I don’t have to take her to school any longer) and my peaceful evenings of not having to yell about homework.
Our second change – my husband’s employer has undertaken some poor business practices that have essentially left my husband out of a job. Well, he starts a new job this week….with better perks than we are accustomed to. I guess you can say sometimes things fall apart so something better can fall into place. At least for now this seems way better. Only time will tell, but I’m hopeful.
The third change? Well this one is not such a happy one right now. My job. I am so good at my job I could run the entire office by myself. Hell I almost do now. Unfortunately, my new co-workers, well not to sound mean, but they just aren’t as “good” as me. Because of that, I’m being forced to undergo group trainings on standard procedures I’ve known for YEARS so that no one is singled out. There have been so many of these damn trainings that quite frankly I’ve just about had it with my job. The latest training…calendar management. Seriously? Up to this point I’ve continued to play along and sound interested when learning something I already know, which I know probably feeds someone’s ego thinking that I didn’t know what I was being taught. Truly I already do know it, and now I’m fed up to the point of looking at job boards. If you want to provide me with training right now….anger management may be a better choice. Want to know how frustrated I am? My grandfather died last night – In Florida. I was told I didn’t have to go to the funeral and that I should save my money. I’m so stressed right now, I’d rather go out of state for a funeral than stay here. I loved my job. I was comfortable in my job. I could have stayed here for years. But now…..well, now I guess it’s time for me to move on as my husband and daughter have. Let’s see if fate is on my side.
I’ve been seriously slacking in my writing these days. It’s not that nothing’s happened or that I don’t have anything to write about. It’s all in timing. I feel that I do some of my best writing when I am emotional. The problem? Once the emotions pass, so does the urge to write about whatever was bothering me. Ironically I have three blogs currently in draft form that I started when I felt quite emotional about each topic. I’m sure I could finish them and make something out of them, but now that I have put those feelings behind me, part of me thinks it’s petty to finish writing them. Maybe not petty, but maybe it’s more of a false feeling now that the emotions are gone. I don’t know. It’s such a conundrum.
So here I am pondering what to do with these partially written blogs. Do I continue them? Do I erase them? Do I alter them and try to impart some wisdom (insert laughing – as if I have any wisdom to provide!). I’ll think on it some more. You’ll know my decision if you see a few posts pop up in the past-tense. 😉
Anyway, thanks for hanging in there for those of you who may miss me and my wacky world.
Do you ever just get tired of your life? I think I am finally starting to understand the idea of this thing they call a mid-life crisis. Of course I don’t think it’s truly a crisis, so it should be called something else. Perhaps it should be called “The Change”. Nope, that’s taken. Maybe a “Rerouting.” Regardless of what you want to call it, let’s take a look at life….
The first five years of your life, you’re a child without a care in the world. Then from ages five to approximately 18 you enter school. Even though one may think these years are all the same – they truly are not. Your life changes each and every year with each grade you enter into. Of course it changes more drastically when you change school levels – elementary school to middle school, middle to high school. Then perhaps you enter college. Another change as life continues to show you new avenues, new adventures.
Then you enter adulthood. Here is where life starts to go different ways for most people. Some may stay single longer. Some may choose to settle down early. But whichever road you choose, there seems to come a point where you end up doing the same thing day in and day out, year after year. There is no more change. There is no more excitement. Life becomes stale. Let’s be honest. 20 + years at a job? Hope you truly love your job, or at least your career choice. 20 years or so of possibly having kids in the home? Well there’s a little excitement that is more stressful than fun the majority of the time.
So when does a “mid-life crisis” hit? Well I would imagine after 20 years of doing the same thing over and over again (you know that definition of insanity) the doldrums of life set in. You may start counting down to your twenty years at age 20. Maybe at age 30. Because everyone’s life is different, it would only reason that the point of feeling that one’s life sucks would hit at a different point. But I bet it will always hit at some point in a person’s life.
Now honestly, with all the moving I’ve been doing my entire life (the most recent being 8 years ago), it would stand to reason that there has been plenty of change in my life up until 8 years ago and I should be good for at least another 12 years. But that’s just not the case. So maybe it might have a little something to do with age. I’m 41. I don’t want to live past 80. Yes, by definition I would be in the middle of my life. And I’m tired of it damn it. Is this all there is? No wonder people used to die at much younger ages!
A Beautiful Song that’s playing right now.
“If you want it you got to believe
Believe in yourself
‘Cause it’s all just a game
We just want to be loved”
— Lenny Kravitz “Believe”
Sometimes I live this well. Other times I need a reminder. This is my reminder.