I remember thinking that I was sad before, sad for no reason, sad for every reason but you don't fully know sadness until you know grief. It's now Saturday morning. I wanted to write yesterday but didn't find time to be alone in my head. I was ok yesterday and at most times it felt wrong. It feels like you shouldn't be able to go on with life when suddenly something is missing.
I've never had anything die before. Ziggy was sick for two days and the night before when we went to bed Shay told me he thought he was dying. I remember hearing those words but not understanding what it meant. I remember hearing them as if I heard any other sentence and I remember the way we ate dinner as if it were a normal day. I remember seeing him sitting by his water bowl and his eyes when we shut the door to the bedroom and went to bed. I didn't think he would die.
Yesterday was filled with a lot of thoughts. I find comfort in sadness. I'm always my most content when I'm sad. It's a feeling I can become familiar with and if you let me, I'll stay with my sadness forever. Shay knows this. He sees it and for some reason that beautiful man has taken it into his care to not allow me to be sad every day. He's experienced loss before, loss greater than I have ever felt and he deals with his emotions differently.
We're both so different sometimes. We balance each other out in almost every situation but when we're both vulnerable, that's when it's just a little harder to exist together. I didn't know how I'd grieve. I used to sit in my car with him for hours telling him how afraid I was for the day I'd get the call about Sparcky. That fear has never left me but I also know that as I've grown older I've stopped running away from as much. I remember thinking that if I ever had to lose someone, I'd run away; my life would fall apart and I'd let it and like it and want it to. I remember closing my eyes as the wind felt on my face and I remember wanting to run.
It's scary when you're old enough to understand you can't run away. It's scary knowing the younger you inside wants to run away and cry and scream but the present you is calm and dealing with it.
I like to dwell. Yesterday was filled with dwelling thoughts of why him and memories and sadness. I still can't really grasp the concept that he's not coming back home. I'm convinced somehow I'll get a call from the vet and I'll see him again. It doesn't make sense for something to be gone.
I like to cry and to weep and at times it hits me suddenly and all at once. I feel guilt because I've been spending more time with the girls. I don't want him to think I didn't love him the same. I'm just sad with them, for them and I don't know if they believe he's not coming back too.
Shay is the most beautiful compassionate human I've ever met. He's scarred with passion and he doesn't deal with emotions like I do. Tears pour out of me as if they feel like exhaling breathes. Tears and sadness are simple for me. He doesn't cry. He doesn't pout or wallow and he doesn't lose himself in sadness. If you look into his eyes, there's never a tear waiting to drop. That doesn't mean he's not sad. He's filled with sadness. Sadness that needs to get out; suffocated and tense. His way of feeling is through anger. Through rage and through pain and through madness. He has to keep himself contained because he knows if his sadness shows, he'll explode and he's gentle enough to never want to hurt a fly. I feel so sad for him. I understand him and his passion and his anger and I want to be mad too. I want to be mad instead of sad and teary and he wishes his emotions materialized in the way society says its ok to.
So we're tense and he's rational. I'm irrationally hurting and he's rationalizing so his hurt doesn't escape. He'd prefer we never talked about Zig again and I'm streaming with memories.
We just want him home.
I had him cremated and one day a Fedex truck will drop him off and we'll have a piece of him with us. I think we'll feel better with him here, in our home and not so gone. I miss my three. Our cats are welcoming; they always wait for us at the door and they like to be with us whenever we're home. He was our gentle handsome man. He was never as sociable as the other two but he'd be there. He was always there. I miss the way we would say "Big L" and he'd meow, a beautiful gentle man.
He was like Shay; that's why he picked him at the beginning.
I remember we had found Mini online and knew she'd need a brother. Mini was the perfect white little kitten and we wanted two so they'd never be alone. We found out about a vet who had a few young kittens and went to visit the house. As I was sociable, Shay stayed to himself. We were sat on a couch with dogs running around us and kittens scattered around. I didn't click with any of them and I was trying to move the conversation back out the door when I looked over and Shay had a little grey kitten on his lap. He didn't even like cats. He didn't even want one and there was Zig. He chose him and sat on his lap and that was all it took. He came home with us the same day. Zig and I always had our moments, he liked to torment me when he was young but as soon as he saw Shay he was calm and happy.
It's hard to sit on the couch or be home. They'd always come sit with us and be with us. Zig always on Shay. In the morning all three would watch me walk around and Mouse and Zig would always play. Mouse is our annoying little one. She meows too much and always wants to play. He was her best friend. For some reason he loved her and she keeps waiting for him to come play.
Our home is sad. Our life is sad and grief is harder than sadness can explain.
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