Monday, March 30, 2015


I think of him now, ragged and lost, staggering across a desert, the path behind him littered with all the shiny little pieces that life has ripped from him.

Khaled Hosseini
And the Mountains Echoed

Yesterday was the anniversary of my mom's death. Reading that, I finally cried.

My regret tonight is not comforting her when we were both pretending to sleep, the night before my father's funeral. Too few words, not enough hugs.

Friday, March 20, 2015

Dreaming of Billy

Taking a mental health day today. My psychiatrist is making me do it - saw him yesterday. It's a good good thing. And apparently helping me come to terms with things. I dreamt of Billy last night. He had just finished eating and was cleaning up, and also laid down and rolled happily. Then later he jumped up on the bed and I was surprised I could feel his weight. I knew in the dream he was a ghost and was so happy to see him.

I did a radio show Wednesday night in honor of him. Remembering.  And then later that evening figured out it was the anniversary of my mom's death. So felt guilty I didn't do anything for her. But honestly I think that was on purpose subconsciously. I didn't want to remember her death day. Her birthday is later this month and would rather remember that. But yes, I should do both.

It's interesting that people seem to be much more comfortable expressing sympathy about the death of my cat versus my mom. It's less scary I suppose. Certainly true of M. I appreciate it all.

So off to see flowers and have lunch with a friend. After exercising. All the shit I really have to do can come tomorrow - so out of my head dammit!

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Billy Boy

The angel of death arrived in a white Prius carrying her bag of mercy.

I love that line. I made it up.

Billy Boy is gone. So very sad, but he had a good death. Unfortunately I don't really want to get into it now. Suffice to say he was riddled with cancer and I only found out Sunday and put him down on Monday. He didn't really suffer too too much, and I think he was ready. Or so the ones left behind like to think.

M flew up for it.

The big sigh was the last breath from him. Sitting on my lap like he had done so many times. Really truly I so miss my Billy boy.

Below is a faceplant - he's not dead there. But his last morning of love had petting and combing and grass and treats and scratching and.... a faceplant in my lap.