Love is the weirdest thing we have going for us humans. It’s good. It’s bad. It’s fun. It hurts. It makes us change our lives sometimes. The only thing more powerful than love is hope. The hope for love. The hope that something you love will someday love you back. The hope that the thing that loves you back will never leave. The hope you don’t have to make choices that hurt either way. The hope you can live with the choice you made. The hope that someday life will feel alright again when you lose a love.
The virus has taken its toll on the world, but I think there’s much more that’s going to change before we get to the other side of the proverbial bridge. Some of us are stressing about getting food delivered, finding that window. Do we have enough flour to make bread if they can’t deliver it? Can I really make yeast from an apple and my own tears like the internet says? Do I even know the first thing about making bread? Am I getting to fat to eat bread anyway?
Have I been living under a Target shopping bag for my entire life?
I used to write to get through things. I haven’t coded a web thing in so long that I look at my Ghost back end and feel like I’m looking at some Xenomorph ancient text. I can’t let that stop me tonight and I am going to write like I used to. I need to feel and share and get it out of my head.
Side note: There is a glass of wine involved, obviously no judgement since we’re all apparently adding a glass or two to our normal repertoire.
Closest to me know that, not only have we been going through the normal quarantine, stay at home orders but we have had the unfortunate timing of some bad news. A couple weeks before we all started counting toilet paper rolls and wondering if we could indeed churn our own butter if need be, I got some results about my best cat friend Nunu (full name Anubis…. Let’s hope that gets him in some nice after-life-night clubs).
Nunu for some reason has a giant tumor on his liver and nothing can be done. Then the quarantine happened and even if I wanted to try, for my own selfish reasons, it was impossible. So, for the last month I have held him and fed him milk and cheese and anything he’d eat. I’ve watched him wither away like a season old leaf you find in a flowerbed during spring cleanup.
Alas, just like we’re all fighting for groceries and sanity, he’s been fighting and/or avoiding the apparent “rainbow bridge” like a champ. I call him a bad ass magical bag of bones or an epic relic purple battle axe. The second sounds cooler, so we’ll go with that.
Today I had to make the call. The call I never wanted to make, especially for a six year old cat. It just seems wrong and weird like everything going on in the world right now. I had to make the call because he’s suffering and he won’t tell me, but I know. He’s my kid and I know. Not that it’s any easier.
Since we got his news, my whole mentality was to make him feel safe and loved. I have been doing just that. The random cry to sleep which was not really random, rather every other night or so which got me to come to grips with the situation. At least I'm not really putting on mascara and having to wash a pillow case every day. It's the little things.
The big thing though, I’m going to lose my best friend on Tuesday.
I feel angry. I feel hurt. I feel lost. I feel like my heart broke and shatters a little more every day.
All this and I still tell myself every day that “you can do this” and reassuring myself that I can because I have an amazing family who cares and who I care for. 97% of them I’m not even able to be around because of this Covid shit, but they are still there and building me up. Calling, texting, checking in.
We are all in this. We are all struggling for one reason or another. Choose to find the good in an effed up situation and make the best out of it. The chance to spend government issued, chance of a lifetime vacation with people you love (including yourself) is a thing we should embrace.
The only thing truly valuable in this life, is time.
Make sure you say “I love you” to all your peeps and pets. Snuggle them all like you can’t get enough, and hang in there like I’m trying with all my might to do. Do be careful of aggressive snuggling because some cats might scratch or bite you out of sheer, WTF'ness on their part. And, when that’s not enough, just remember Jack Burton...
“When some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, looks you crooked in the eye and asks you if ya paid your dues, you just stare that big sucker right back in the eye, and you remember what ol' Jack Burton always says at a time like that: "Have ya paid your dues, Jack?" "Yessir, the check is in the mail." -Jack Burton 1986