(no subject)
I don't use this much as a journal anymore, but I remembered this icon and it made me think of when I started my journal here over 10 years ago when I was so young and full of drama and living with Meshel and Ophelia was still practically a pup and used to jump up on us and chew everything. Yesterday we had to say goodbye to Ophelia and I feel like another link to that chapter of my life has been cut, though we have all changed so much since then that any link is more like a tangled thread. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. I never expected to have a dog and I probably never will again, but I will miss her both as the young dog who still thought she should be able to fit on my lap and the old one who was content to just lie somewhere near her people.
When David called me Friday night and said that things were bad I was terrified that he was going to say that Meshel was in the hospital. This has been a reminder that really any day I could get a call that someone I love and who is deeply woven in to the tapestry of my life is ill or injured or has died suddenly. My cat, Crash, will be 14 in a few months, and I marvel quite frequently at how young he still seems with the underlying thought that at some point that will no longer be true. I also more frequently lately have the odd thought about how if I had seriously started trying to have children when I got married that I could have had a child almost his age but now I never will.
I still don't really know what I'm trying to say. I suppose all of this is a normal thought process for death to kick off. I'd like to write more about what's going on in my life, but nothing seems quite real anymore and there is rarely anything of note, just so many little things that go by so fast that it's hard to get a handle on them.
When David called me Friday night and said that things were bad I was terrified that he was going to say that Meshel was in the hospital. This has been a reminder that really any day I could get a call that someone I love and who is deeply woven in to the tapestry of my life is ill or injured or has died suddenly. My cat, Crash, will be 14 in a few months, and I marvel quite frequently at how young he still seems with the underlying thought that at some point that will no longer be true. I also more frequently lately have the odd thought about how if I had seriously started trying to have children when I got married that I could have had a child almost his age but now I never will.
I still don't really know what I'm trying to say. I suppose all of this is a normal thought process for death to kick off. I'd like to write more about what's going on in my life, but nothing seems quite real anymore and there is rarely anything of note, just so many little things that go by so fast that it's hard to get a handle on them.