Dreams are made of this...
As some of you might recall, I had to put my cat to sleep on the first of February this year, and I've been slowly recovering. I finally got to the point where I wasn't in tears every day and I wasn't seeing ghost kitties. Of course, I still think about her a lot and I miss her so much that it hurts whenever someone starts talking about her. It's hard to hear that my mom doesn't miss her, but of course, I wasn't at home for the last few months of her life. I didn't see how bad things really got... But it doesn't make it easy to have someone dismiss your beloved animal so quickly. I know my mom truly does miss her, but she doesn't miss the pain and the medications my cat went through near the end. She doesn't miss giving Nanashi drips of saline water every other night just so she could live, and she doesn't miss injecting platelets into a dying animal to give me more time. I understand that. I wouldn't miss that, either.
Last night, I had a dream where the world was ending. I was with my mom, dad, sister, cousins, aunts, and uncles from my mother's side, and we were trying to do something. Wrap presents for a surprise party for my cousins, I think. Anyway, for some reason, we were in this enormous house set on a hill, near a family who owned a herd of Indricotherium. They were the last ones alive or something...I don't know. Anyway, my cat was there, and she was...well, every ounce herself. Loving, didn't mind being hugged, cuddled, what have you, but she also would just up and walk away if she had too much. She might have scratched me. I don't recall.
The hard thing about waking up after a dream like that isn't having watched people fall into massive holes in the roads, or watching people die, or even watching Indricotherium being struck by meteors. It was knowing my cat wasn't around anymore. That the animal I loved and cherished, the creature who was my best friend for the majority of my life was still gone. The only place she lives on is in my head, and it hurts. It feels like rocks are being shoved into my heart and lungs, while someone keeps saying, "It'll be all right. Just breathe through it, and you'll be fine."
The thing is, I'm not sure I will. It's been almost half a year. I'm trying to play it cool, because to be honest, last year was hell on Earth for me. I've been through a lot; I almost lost my parents, I lost two jobs, lost four family members and one friend, and I've been fighting to keep myself together. I reflect upon last year a lot, especially while I write. The loss of two grandmothers, a great uncle and his wife, and a childhood friend, all in the span of nine months...well, that makes it hard to want to become close to anyone else, especially those in my family. It's terrifying. I guess all of the death just recently "hit my sister" and she's been coping with it however she can. The thing is...it hit me a long time ago. And it keeps coming back with the same force. Those people in my life are gone, no matter what I thought of them, no matter how much or little I talked to them, they're just...gone. And that's tough to accept.
I realize I can't do anything about it. I know I have to move on and I have to get things done...because otherwise, I'll fall into that pit of my dream, and my world really will end. Not in a literal sense, I suppose, but I'll cease being productive. My life will grind to a halt, and I'll never be able to pick up again. Part of me hopes that time will truly heal the wounds from last year, and that I will be able to stop waking up and feeling the crushing weight of so much death and pain, so much loss, and so much exhaustion from it all. Part of me knows that it will never go away. That I'll be ninety, half-mad from Alzheimer's, and I'll be holding conversations with my dead cat.
I guess I can only do one thing, and that's take life one day at a time.
Baby steps, because dreams are made of moving forward.
You are saying what I believe everyone thinks privately. And it's not easy. I remember conversations with Debby about why writers tend to be 'whacky'. My thoughts are that writers study life. And it's seeming absurdity just stares right back at them. I believe that 'regular' people just don't think about it to much. It's much easier to bury yourself in TV, music and fictional books. I've known you most of your life and I've never brought up the G word. But that's my only solace. God is real to me and I can't escape from that and I won't bury my head. I just don't know how anyone can make it through a week without God. I've always thought you were a special person. I was very happy to see you write a book and follow through. That's very special Kira. (Practical is also good :) Don't be afraid to face life, death and truth. It will hurt. God promises to his “As thy days, so shall thy strength be.” Deuteronomy 33:25 - Ron L.
ReplyDeleteHi, Ron.
DeleteI've struggled a lot with my personal beliefs regarding religion and an afterlife. Both of my parents are, of course, atheist, as is Micahl, and it can be difficult to discuss my personal beliefs with them. My mother and father are comfortable discussing faith with me, but both take the scientific approach (which makes sense and is the reason I am the way I am). I'm...spiritual, I suppose would be the word I'd chose. Not agnostic, because I don't ponder the existence of God; there are strong forces out there, but I am still deciding whether or not those forces are sentient or are in any way interested in the everyday lives of humans. I send thanks when things go well, and I ask for answers when things go wrong. Sometimes events fall into place and sometimes they don't.
With everything that happened last year, I won't say I came out stronger, but I did begin this year understanding what is truly important in my life. Sometimes I forget, though, that I was only an outsider to many of the events, not an actual participant. I idolize those who show such strength--such as my mother and my grandfather--when they have been through the worst life has to offer them. Both are moving forward, but both have daily reminders of the things that forever changed their lives. My mom goes for treatment once every three weeks...but in my eyes--and I think in hers--she is *alive* to go through those treatments. She's still *here*, so anything else she suffers is, I suppose, a reflection of that good fortune more than the suffering itself.
I like to think Nanashi is in Heaven or sitting beside me or watching over me, but I can't seem to grasp it. Maybe because it hurts too much to think she's just out of reach...and maybe because I'm afraid to think of the alternative, that she's truly gone. I'm the last person who will say, "I'll only believe in what I see," because that's foolish in my mind. We can't see atoms or the Higgs Boson, but both are still present and impact our existence. Also, as you mentioned, writers are "wacky". If I ever said, "I'll only believe in what I see," I'd never write, because I'd never believe in what I put on paper. The core of being a writer is the ability to believe in what you write.
Thank you so much for your comment; it's wonderful to hear your feedback, especially since I know I'm not in this alone. Your family has always been a blessing in my life. I hope things are going well for you and Debby!
Kira