Sometimes it's hard to find the words. When I'm upset about something, writing it out might help, or it might make it worse, and I can't always tell, beforehand, which way it will go. But when I'm not upset about the thing, I hesitate to write about it in case it reopens the wound.
Of course, when I'm irritated about the Bruins blowing yet another lead (I believe this was the third game In A Row where they blew a 2-goal lead), I somehow feel the irritation balances the potential upset. Which makes no sense at all, and I don't know why that sentence started with "of course". Moving on.
Living without Pan is still so hard. It doesn't hurt as frequently, but when it does, it's every bit as hard as it was the day he died. So many little, stupid things remind me of him. Showering. The heated pet pads. My slippers. Saying, "You're so cute" to Miri or "Who's my baby" to Harold. I keep telling myself, it will get better with time, because I have to believe it. So far, though, not really.
(It's certainly no coincidence that my migraines, which had improved in the last few years with medication, have been worse in the last few months.)
Now, I'm not having the worst week ever or anything. Not even close. I know of one person who's going to two funerals this week, and another who would be, only both are on the same day, and holy crap to both of those, right? Pretty much no matter what, my week will be fine. Hey, I got Valentine candy! (Thanks, mama.) My tax refund came! So far, work has been busy without quite crossing over into batshit crazy. I guess I'm just musing on how I'm doing, as lately I've been talking more about the Great Cat Integration Project aspect of things.
In semi-related news: my mother mentioned that she'd like to see more pictures of Miri, so I loaded (uploaded? downloaded? seriously, what's the difference?) all the photos I've taken of her, with and without Harold, in the month she's been here. Plus some photos of just Harold, as long as they were there. And how many photos were there?
106.
Hi, my name is ccr, and I am addicted to digital photography.
And cats.
And blogging.
I mostly knit, sometimes crochet or cross-stitch. I read, a lot. I love cats. I love hockey, especially my no-longer-local team, the Boston Bruins. Want more? Read on.
I would love to have this nifty calculator whereby you take the number of days you have had with a loved one, divide it by 'x' and it equals the number of days until memories don't trip you up, ripping at your heart with fresh wounds of missing them dreadfully.
ReplyDeleteI don't think such a thing exists, but it sure would be nice to know when it will end, at the least the worst of it.
The general rule of thumb given to me by a funeral director (yes, I know two people who *chose* to be funeral directors and they are normal otherwise) was 'at least one full cycle without them' before new cycles can create new connections.
Yeah, right. What's a cycle?
I still find myself looking for Perry P, or thinking about her, or just plain missing her. Having been though this before with my beloved Sassy, I know it takes time but still find the little stabs of grief hard to bear. And I've just made it worse by admitting that although I had Sassy longer, I just plain loved Perry more. She was one heck of a cat.
ReplyDeleteIt's part of life, and we bear it. It will get better.
I'm so sorry it is really hard. To be honest I don't think those feelings ever go away, they become manageable. You know my cat tattoo? It's a cartoon version of my first cat. I still think about her, but now it's with smiles.
ReplyDelete