Our little Luna

Just when you think you can move a few steps forward....something happens, and it sets you back a few thousand miles.

This might seem silly. Trivial, even. Perhaps it seems unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Still, it happened, and my heart is once more broken.

In 1999, my then-husband Greg and I adopted two little kittens. Luna Sea (lunacy - geddit?) and Silver Star.

Silver was her Daddy's girl. And Luna was, being smaller and the runt of the litter, a complete Mommy's girl. Not the brightest kitty on the planet, she would literally hold your hand while you were typing, and she'd offer the best cuddles and kitty kisses ever. She was my little goofball.

Today, Greg and Wendy had to put our Luna to sleep. This has hit me like a tonne of fucking bricks.

Gonna recap here, just a sec.

Rob - died 12/25/07
Brian (my stepfather) - died 3/29/08
Bob (Rob's Dad) - died 4/3/08
Mum - died 4/29/08

and now, our Luna.

I know, she was a kitty. And as such, we're not meant to grieve for our pets quite so much; yet that doesn't stop me from sobbing, and it doesn't stop me from wondering, "How much is one person expected to endure?!".

Rest in peace, my little Luna.

I'm just glad she had two Mommies - Wendy and I - and a Daddy who absolutely adored her.

Just wish I could stop crying.

Meh.

Here we are then.

This has probably been the most incredibly painful day of my life.

At least, in recent memory.

It's 6 months since you died, my beautiful Wombat. Six months since I last held you in my arms (funeral home notwithstanding). Six months since I last kissed your beautiful lips (ditto).

6 months.

Really? Honestly? Truly? It's the sadness.

It's the sadness that gets to you.

I go through the day. I see people, I converse, I interact, I wince, I smile, I laugh, and still.... I cry. There's just this unshakable sadness that remains with you, even during the laughter.

It's laughter tinged with sadness, with bitterness, with anger. Please, someone, explain to me why Charles Manson is still alive, and Rob isn't alive anymore. Yes, yes, I realise there's no real answer to that question. It doesn't stop the question from being asked though.

I feel like Sharon Stone in "Alpha Dog".

(I'm very guilty of paraphrasing here)

"This is God's plan? Then God better get his ass down here and explain it to me....".

You know what? I felt for that character.

I utterly, painfully, horrifically, tragically understood what she meant. I go through every single emotion, every single day.

But still, it's just the sadness that really gets to you. It sits on your chest, a boulder of pain, unwilling to let go and relentless in its intensity. It threatens to crush your soul, your very vitality, every little thing you think you've kept intact.

It's just so fucking sad.

Still...I have hope. I really do think - more often than not - that I'll make it through this bloody awful journey.

I have to, you know?

I have to make it.

Look, go hug your dearest and nearest. Cherish today. There might not be a tomorrow.

Spaghetti Ramblings

(Posting between making spaghetti. If I get tomato sauce on the keyboard, forgive me)

You know, there's just no pleasing me as far as the weather goes.

Here's the official Tess Guide To Fargo Weather. Please take this with as big a pinch of salt as I just chucked into the pan of water.

There are, in general, two seasons of weather in North Dakota. F'cking hot, and F'cking cold.

November, December, January, February, March: ice, more snow, more snow than that even, lots of slipping on one's bum on the occasional day where it gets above zero and the snow melts into..ice! Granted, I almost managed to get through the entire season without doing that more than three times, which is quite the accomplishment. And it can get as cold as -35. That's Thirty Five Below Zero. Sometimes without the wind-chill. That's gotta be illegal, surely?!

April: One really nice week of weather! Lovely. Around 58 degrees. Easy, breezy lovely weather. The other three weeks blow.

May: Sometimes snow, sometimes in the 80s. It's our "schizophrenic" month, and May just can't seem to decide whether it wants to be in the FH or FC category. Also it can, and will, snow in May here....sometimes within days of a scorching 80-degree day of hellfire. I think that is on purpose, though I have no proof.

June, July, Aug, Sept: temps between 75-100, humidity higher than..well, the proverbial high thingy. Mosquitoes, flat hair, flooding, tornadoes, thunder storms, lightning strikes, the occasional blessed night of "less than 80 degrees oh thank you lawdy".

October: Again, one nice week of weather. A lovely 63 or so degrees. The other three weeks do, of course, suck. Think of October as May's slightly crankier younger brother. Same mental affliction applies, apparently.

Then you're back to winter!

You know, Wombat, for the longest time I haven't been able to fully comprehend how you can have nipplewithering cold (don't you think that sounds like it should be a small village iin England? No? Must be just me) weather and balldroppingly hot weather (which is obviously one village over from the previous) in the same state. It's not right. Pick one already! You shouldn't be able to get frostbite and heat deaths in the same state.

Grumble grumble grumble.

Ok, I'm done whining.

Spaghetti, anyone?

Edit: I think there might've been a critter in the package of spaghetti. I'm going to go with the "if I can't see it, I can't taste it" school of denial, thank you very much.

Tornadoshmado

Hey, this is a relatively non-angsty entry. Go figure!

I'm coming out of hiding after about eleventy thousand days of tornado warnings. When it wasn't a tornado warning, it was a severe storm warning. When it wasn't a storm warning, it was a "hide from the friggin horrid heat" warning. And when it wasn't that, it was a "it's cold enough to freeze your nipples" warning. In the words of the fabulous Lewis Black, "my balls can't take it!!!"

At least, that'd be true if I had balls. But I don't.

Anyway.

Today, I'm really, really thankful. You know why? Bear with me, because this is going to be as rambling as ramblingation can ever be. And that's not only NOT a word, it's terrifyingly bad grammar to boot.

I'm thankful for:

Lori. My WonderTwin. You KNOW. Yes, you just KNOW. My god girl, I love you.

Moe. My partner in crime, and Scrabulaciousness. And I miss you.

Samantha: You know why. I need more Eliza pics, btw, girly!

Leeler: Oh, like I have to even say it :p

GregnWendy: Despite the odds, despite the history, you both came through for me.

Wor Geord & Tam: The painful irony is, you've both been there more than 90% of my immediate family. I love that. Your girlies are virtually unbearably gorgeous, too. Heh.

Wor Dave: We share both our "first crush" and other secrets. I'll never, ever forget that, hon :)

I'm thankful for having the opportunity to love you, Rob.

You were such an incredible man. So intelligent. So witty. So...well, so YOU.

I'm thankful that I got to share your life, even as it ended so tragically.

I'm just thankful, you know?

Jeezus, will I ever post a non-angsty entry?! Apparantly not today....

I think my hormones are going berserk or something.

For the past week or so (maybe longer, I don't really know), I've been haunted by memories of the night Rob died.

I keep seeing him there in bed, already gone.

I see him on the bedroom floor, paramedics trying to work on him.

I keep seeing him on that cold, cold table at the funeral home.

I read a passage in a book, and go to talk to him about it...and he can't answer.

I watch TV, and there are a million shows we'd watch together, make fun of, laugh about.

(Vincent D'Onofrio was a popular choice to ridicule; or rather, his character on L&O. Come ON people - who is he, God?!)

I try to relax in the tub, but I can't. That's what we used to do together.

I make garlic toast for the spaghetti, and I make too much because I forget there's only one of us now.

For some reason, everything today is making me cry.

I hate not being "we" anymore.

2008 - it sucks balls.

You know one of the things I really, really hate about this?

You never once got to see 2008. At all.

I post on my support group board, and all of my posts are dated "08".

I email friends, and every one of them is dated "08".

I post on LJ, on Facebook - and every one of those posts is dated "08".

And you, my love, never got to see even one day of 2008.

That just fuckin kills me.