****Warning: This is not a happy post.
Art by Qakie
I’ve been off the grid.
You may have noticed, but probably not. That’s okay. If you’re anything like me, social media is a constant, incoming tide of information, ideas, book launches, and cat pictures. It’s good, to a point, but it can be overwhelming in its magnitude. That’s where I am now— overwhelmed. But I figured, in case you did happen to notice my absence, I could at least give you an explanation.
Things have been happening. I struggle to take them in.
My step-son died suddenly at the age of forty-seven.
My cat, Little, whom I’ve had with me for 11 of her 13 years, is slipping across the Bridge as I write.
I bought a new laptop.
For the past month, I’ve written nothing, but yesterday started Crazy Cat Lady #8, ADVENTURE CAT. (Thus the new laptop)
The sun is out in Portland, and I think it’s spring.
I’ve been sleeping a lot. When not sleeping, I am finally catching up on the old scifi show, Stargate SG-1. I’m on season 5.
Yes, I am still bathing and keeping up on the bills. Every so often, I do something interesting, like the other day when I went to Costco with my high school buddies. I bought new shoes at the Shoe Mill for my upcoming trip to the Cat Writers’ Association Conference in St. Louis. They are red.
But many things I’ve let slide. I skipped a poetry reading because I couldn’t face the public. I didn’t turn in my monthly Fire Star blog. I haven’t volunteered at the cat shelter for ages. I didn’t sweep floors, clean toilets, wash windows, or garden. I haven’t blogged. The list of “didn’ts” outweighs the list of “dids.”
Artwork by by Vladislava
They say I am in mourning. Is that what makes the sluggish, tiresome, useless heaviness that sits like a stone raven on my chest and soul? I suppose it is. Losing someone is huge. And at first, everyone sees that. Friends show up with soup and flowers, willing to water your plants and drive you places. But as time passes— for them, the usual day-to-day sequence of hours, but for me, a time tunnel of nothingness— they go to work and take care of their kids. I, on the other hand, will never be the same. That’s how loss is.
Death comes to us all. I need not deny it or shy away from its final reality. I have a program that helps me accept the things I cannot change, such as death, and urges me to have to courage to change what I can— my attitude. It will happen. Tat some point, the sleep won’t do it for me anymore; the need to immerse myself in television will lessen. My living, human spirit will urge me into action, if only to be of help to others. Or to get ice cream.
Anyway, thanks for understanding my lapse. You mean a lot to me, and I probably don’t tell you as often as I should. My writing sustains me, makes me feel as if I’m contributing to this wild ball of humanity, but it only works if someone is reading what I create.
I’m looking forward to my new laptop. Meanwhile, I think I’ll take a nap.