Snow and tears

There's a lovely blanket of snow outside, so pretty when it first fell.  Now it is slush turned to ice, with leaves and gunk and trails of footprints.  There's a metaphor in there.  Have at it.

Little Punkin has been sent across the Rainbow Bridge on Saturday.  She was fine in the morning, her usual obnoxious self.  She settled under the throw against my legs after breakfast.  I felt her moving, so I lifted the edge of the throw.  She seemed to be caught in the blankets, then I realized, her hind legs were not working right.  She fell over.  I got her cuddled up and contacted Desi, who was working.  Des rushed through her dogs, but it was still a couple hours.  Punkin didn't seem to be in pain, just confused, unable to stay upright, and when I took her in the kitchen, unable to walk.  I gave her her favorite pouch treat, she fell onto it at one point.  I cleaned her fur, she kept eating.  Turned my back to rinse off my hands and she had dragged herself into the bedroom and onto the bed.  How, I have no idea.  She cleaned herself, then curled up and fell asleep.

Desi came, and put Punkin in to the kennel.  Punkin was not amused.  We went to the emergency vet in the old McGrath's Fish House instead of the awful one which is a little closer.  They had a pleasant room with a comfy couch.  Lots of forms, so many forms, and a credit card. 

"Do you want to be present?"   Want, WANT?  No,  I do not want to be here at all.  What popped out of my mouth was, "If I can do it for my husband, I can do it for this cat".  Rather raw, but my whole life has ragged edges now.  I am not easy to be around, I am prickly like a cactus, or some odd fruit grown on a thorny tree.

Punkin sat with me, leaving only to get the IV.  She was growling and snipping when they brought her back, but I couldn't blame her.  She settled in against my hip.  The vet came in and we talked, he gave her the first injection and she fell right asleep.  Another, and she was gone.  At least it was easy and I was with her.

I did not choose individual cremations and a little box with her ashes.  I have too many urns in the house, and no one to bury her for me.  So she will be with the other animals, and they actually take those ashes up to the mountains and scatter them.  Dust to dust. 

People say she is with Larry now.  That's a sweet thought, so I shall let it stand.  Farewell, little Death Kitty.

Another week of 2018.  Just fucking stop, okay?

The Cold Moon

The Cold Moon shone brightly in my windows last night.  A harbinger of the coming cycle of light and dark, growth and decay. life and death.  Winter is here.  Yesterday was Solstice, my Yule, my New Year.  I wanted to go out and make a small fire in the firepit, as MyLarry would have done.  I did not have the energy, will, or desire to go out back.  I will this morning, to fill the birdfeeder.  They don't deserve hunger because I am distraught. 

My life is withered and sere.  Winter is here.  A winter which may last all year.

Running the damn house is going to be expensive without my resident handyman. I can do some things; I fixed the doorbells, rewired a lamp.  I had to call a plumber because the sink faucet was leaking.  Got a two-fer and did the bathroom faucet too, as it leaks periodically.  Worth every penny.  I got under the sink to plug in the disposal, wow, that plug is a nightmare.  There are two outlets underneath, one switched, one unswitched.  The unswitched outlet has a plug and cord that look terrible.  Uninsulated and scary.  That is the WHOLE FUCKING GARAGE plugged in under my sink, the outlets, the lights.  Yikes.  No wonder Larry used the genny when he wanted to weld.  He ran fucking power saws and more off that system.  Fuck me.  How did this get past the home inspector when we bought the house? 

Holiday Cheer, my ass

I did put up my holiday decor, as it felt like surrender not to do so.  I cried over the tiny cute ornaments with our names on them, and the frame ornament with our Santa Rampage photo. 

I will be spending time with family on Christmas.  One family breakfast, and one dinner.  I am not feeling it.  We never spent time with my brother on Christmas, but my nieces are being thoughtful, I want to be gracious in return.  Dinner with the SIL will be weird, but I will make candied yams, I will make nice,  especially as they're moving out of state.  None of this feels cheerful to me, so I'm thinking of it as a duty day, with two watches which are going to suck, but need to be done.  Then I can come home, set something on fire in the firepit out back, and get drunk as fuck.

Go me.

Shambling onward toward the unknown

This new cycle of grief and loneliness is distressing.  Words such as pendulum, rollercoaster, waves, we have heard them all.  All have a ring of truth, but nothing encompasses the whole.  Ups and downs, highs and lows?  More like slow tides, rising and falling, with eddies and currents ready to sweep me into the depths, then when I drown, crushed in the ocean of grief, in a flash I find myself instead gasping for air cast onto a strange sandy shore.  Sometimes I can sit on a rock and watch my daily activities dispassionately, sometimes I am the flotsam, pushed and pulled until I land on a random shoal like a forgotten flip-flop fallen from a fisherman's foot.  Certainly, I am not in control much of the time.

The terrible weekend bled over into a monstrous Monday.  Tuesday was more productive, as was Wednesday, but I can tell my brain is stressed and not in proper working order.  I make mistakes.  I am forgetful.  So easy to dive into social media and ignore the world.  Ignore the pain of Larry not being here. I want to put my arms around him and feel that slender lithe body, those strong muscles, that tickly beard.  To listen to his breath, his heartbeat.  I know I felt that one. Last. Heartbeat.  But there were supposed to be so many more.  I can't fathom this some moments. 

I painted a little.  Nothing new, just a redo of an older painting.  I touched paint, so there's progress.  I wrote to Lonny, but I am still putting off holiday cards.  I adulted, some of which I shouldn;t need to be doing at all.  Stupid adulting.

I don't know how to swim, so how can I escape this vicious riptide?  Where this ends up is hard to grasp.  

Merry is not the operative word

Saturday.  Weekends are becoming the worst days ever.  Larry was home weekends.  Saturday was also a morning in bed, then on to chores or errands, and sometimes a drive.  This Saturday, I cannot stop crying.  I am Not Having a Good Day. I miss him, I miss our home.  This house, empty and alone, is not home enough.  But is is all I have. 

Yesterday afternoon I had lunch at Tona's with another recent widow.  It was nice to get out, we talked about our spouses.  It was pleasant.  I did not cry.  I came home and went to bed early, watched some recorded TV.  Deleted all the Dr. Who.  I just didn't care to watch it.  I am bored with myself, frustrated that I cannot banish grief. 

Got a letter from Lonny.  I will write back, but not today.  Today sucks.

I got out my little address book.  I want to send holiday cards.  They're all so fucking cheerful, I cannot stand it.  I feel sick to my stomach.  Merry?  Happy?  Joyous?  No, that is simply not so.  Not this year.  Larry never paid attention to cards, coming or going.  I'd read the occasional newsletter to him, and show him any pictures, but he was not into it. Meh.  I was, but declined the years I was ill.  Now?  I want to reach out, but it is literally making me want to throw up.  Dammit.

I'm entering a new terrain of tears.  The lows are becoming very, very low.  I will ride it out, but this fun ride is so much not fun at all.  Worst rollercoaster ever. No actual rollercoaster has made me want to puke, but this Emotional Ride is working overtime.   A closed loop. 

I think I need a cup of tea, but that will make me cry too. 

The Meatloaf of Sadness

Determined to use the meat in the deep freeze, I thawed a ground turkey chub and a pack of ground pork for a meatloaf.  I have not been cooking much, so this was a big step.  Big is the operative word.  That was three pounds of meat, plus oatmeal, dried onions, an egg, and tons of herbs and spices, topped with a mustard balsamic gravy mix.  Yummy, but now it sits in the fridge in two containers. Every time I open the fridge, it smells of meaty goodness.  

Why is this sad?  Because that is a LOT of meatloaf.  Probably more than I can eat before it gets old and stale. Larry would have made sandwiches from it.  I guess I will need to vac-seal and freeze some in single portions.  Is this defeating the whole use up the frozen stuff plan?  I still have frozen tamales from a few weeks ago.

The fireplace insert is already here.  That was fast.  I worry because the box looks a little rough.  Very heavy, I could barely get it in the door.  I got some laundry done and folded.  I need to change the sheets, and to vacuum.  I need to make yogurt, to pack up some jewels and stones for a friend, to actually do the Ancestry DNA kit. Put the solar lights in the box, but the wheelcovers on the trailer tires.  I am exhausted though, lethargic.  Encased in amber which lets in dim light, but allows no movement or progress.  I hate being alone and lonely.  No one else will do, people are a welcome distraction, but no replacement for Larry in my life. 

Snow falls

I knew I'd missed the weather window for roof lights.  We had a light and fluffy snowfall.  Most of the sidewalks and roads are clear, but the roof has a lovely little blanket.  I cannot find the indoor window lights.  Not a clue where they have been stashed.

Had a wonderful scare with a gas leak.  After shoveling the snow, I could smell gas when I went back in the house, very strong.  I made sure the flu was open and went outside.  Dominion Energy came out, and the guy checked everything.  Turns out the fireplace insert is broken at one end.  Joy.  I was able to order one from Lowe's, military discount and all, free delivery. Still, over $200.  Colby will put in in.  The stove had a leak too, but the DE guy was able to fix it.  I gave him a couple mini-bottles.  At least I was able to clean behind the stove.

I got my Secret Santa package in the mail.  I sure hope they enjoy it!  I went a little heavy on the Jurassic Park theme.  Life, uh, finds a way.

Feeling ... calmer?  More resigned?  I still have very bad moments, and I do not think I will ever stop missing him.  I just cry less.  I still mope a lot.  This still sucks.