Many parents, in fact all parents unless they have a unusual kid, have had to put up with the 3 or 4 ghosts. I'm not really sure how many there are right now as my mind is existing in a fog right now and I can't really think straight. I know that I put up with them for years and all those years I wished they would just go back to Hell or wherever they are from. I kept telling myself that they would eventually get tired of torturing me and leave in a few years. Well, guess what? It's been going on 26 years and they are still with me!
One would imagine that if you have 4 grown adults, at least in physical years that these ghosts wouldn't be around but they are. This morning I went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, the Nectar of the Gods, and found the string from a piece of bologna and the wrapper from sliced cheese just chilling on the counter not even 5 feet away from the trash can. You could have literally picked them up, turned around and taken one step to throw them away. So I ask everyone that was awake at that point who had left them there. 3 answers of "it wasn't me". Really? OK. Last night I asked who had spilt soda on the counter and was told 3 times "I don't know". At that time there was only 2 of us in the house. Last week as I stood right there in the kitchen I watched someone pour himself a cup of coffee and as he is doing this he leaves a trail from the pot to his cup. As he turns to leave I ask him if he is going to clean that up. He turns around and says "someone else did that". Well, then, I must be going blind in my old age!
As I began to notice more and more the ghosts are still with me I was starting to get OK and maybe even a little happy with them. I would be busy doing something for everyone such as cooking dinner or doing the oh, so nasty cleaning of the house that no one else can seem to get themselves to do and would ask if someone would do something such as take the dog out, take the garbage out or bring me the dirty dishes from another room. I would be told "not me" or "someone else can". Foolishly I would wait and wait for these ghosts to do these things. Eventually I started to realize as I am doing what I had asked someone else to do that now in their minds I am also "not me" and "someone else". I wonder now if that means that I am also "I don't know".
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Day 4
It's already been 4 days since Mumbles went to the Rainbow Bridge. In some ways it doesn't feel that long and in other ways it seems like it has been so much longer. each morning I have woken up missing him more than I did the day before. The only comfort that I have is that I know I will see him again along with all my other lost cats and loved ones when it is my time to go. Meanwhile I am still so full of doubts and second guessing myself. I know that he was ready to go but I wasn't ready to let him go, I probably would have never been ready for that. He is out of his pain and suffering and that is what matters the most.
What amazes me the most though is how people, even ones that claim to have loved him and animals in general, are or seem to be so indifferent to his loss. They act like it doesn't bother them or miss him while I can barely keep myself together. They act like I am reacting too much to it. What I guess is they don't really understand what he meant to me.
There is so much that I want to remember about him that I don't know where to start. The way we met. The way he would shred the toilet paper when he got mad at you. The way he loved to play fetch with his mieces, bump in the rug. The way he would watch me getting ready for work in the mornings and when I was just about ready he would grab something, run off with it and hide it under the rug to try to keep me from leaving. When that didn't work he would lay by the front door and bite me when I tried to move him. I will miss him biting me awake in the mornings even when the alarm didn't go off, I will miss the way he used to sit and beg during meal times with his head tipped like a dog a with tears in his eyes, I will miss the way he was so impatient for his canned food screaming that I was too slow with it. I will miss the way he would great me at the door when I came home, the way he would come in to the bathroom a head of me and wouldn't let me get to the toilet. I will miss all of his little quirks like loving Saltine Crackers or crackers of any kind, stealing my brussels sprouts, the tail that never stopped moving. Most of all I will miss his body heat on a cold night, his soft but yet deep purr, his soft muffled meow and the most of all is I will miss his love.
Each of the other 3 cats are all missing him too and they are all trying to take over one or more of his little lovable quirks but they will never take his place. Nor do they need to, they all have their own place in my heart and their own little things that are so endearing to me. I want them to be their selves.
What amazes me the most though is how people, even ones that claim to have loved him and animals in general, are or seem to be so indifferent to his loss. They act like it doesn't bother them or miss him while I can barely keep myself together. They act like I am reacting too much to it. What I guess is they don't really understand what he meant to me.
There is so much that I want to remember about him that I don't know where to start. The way we met. The way he would shred the toilet paper when he got mad at you. The way he loved to play fetch with his mieces, bump in the rug. The way he would watch me getting ready for work in the mornings and when I was just about ready he would grab something, run off with it and hide it under the rug to try to keep me from leaving. When that didn't work he would lay by the front door and bite me when I tried to move him. I will miss him biting me awake in the mornings even when the alarm didn't go off, I will miss the way he used to sit and beg during meal times with his head tipped like a dog a with tears in his eyes, I will miss the way he was so impatient for his canned food screaming that I was too slow with it. I will miss the way he would great me at the door when I came home, the way he would come in to the bathroom a head of me and wouldn't let me get to the toilet. I will miss all of his little quirks like loving Saltine Crackers or crackers of any kind, stealing my brussels sprouts, the tail that never stopped moving. Most of all I will miss his body heat on a cold night, his soft but yet deep purr, his soft muffled meow and the most of all is I will miss his love.
Each of the other 3 cats are all missing him too and they are all trying to take over one or more of his little lovable quirks but they will never take his place. Nor do they need to, they all have their own place in my heart and their own little things that are so endearing to me. I want them to be their selves.
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