End Stage

The large piece of black sushi from the header graphic above is a stylised caricature of our sweet cat, Seven. He had gone skinny for a brief bit, so we were feeding him more.  We always said that his heart was where his brain should be, so we’d kind of assumed he’d just forgotten to eat for a while.  He always liked it outside in the Cat Run more than the other two, so we figured he might have stayed out there so long he missed feedings.  He would often come in after a rainstorm, soaked through.  He was not smart. And he was eating, lots.  Feeding him separate was working, we thought.  Then he just crashed.  A cat that never let anyone pick him up was suddenly falling over and quite cuddly when scooped up.  I made an emergency appointment and Wifeage loved on him on our way out, but stayed home with our smallest while I had our middle kid with me.  We kind of knew.  When we parted, that is.  We kind of knew. He was in… Read moreEnd Stage

Maybe this’ll be different.

I had sent word to my dad to let him know when I’d be coming home for a visit after one of my earlier years of college, and I hadn’t heard back from him for several days. While never one for prompt correspondence, it was slightly unusual. But unlike other times when he’d explain his absence with a two-part summation involving an activity and location like “ice climbing” and “Mount Rainier” or “kayaking” and “Bighorn River” this time he simply said that he was sorry he hadn’t gotten back to me because he’d been “out of town for Sibyl’s funeral.” That was how he told me my grandmother, his mother, was dead. The years showed that this was neither out of the norm of the level I was involved nor the worst way he could deliver news, so it’s actually a perfect example. Now I’m actually reeling, completely unprepared emotionally for what I’m feeling, in reading actual messages from the former family. I’m so out of the loop I had to ask my son who this person was with the… Read moreMaybe this’ll be different.