grief

Feelings and stuff

A couple of weeks ago, my fiancé and I spent an obscene amount of money to try and save his daughter’s cat. We drained our wedding fund to pay for the emergency vet care that she needed in an attempt to save her, plus additional savings.

Sadly, she did not make it. Several days after we brought her home, her health went downhill quick, and we had to let her go to end her suffering.

I do not, and never will, regret spending the money we did to try and save our cat. Not a single part of me regrets that because this cat was worth it. She was family, and you do whatever you can to help your family members, especially the helpless furry ones.

While it does sting that I don’t have the wedding fund anymore AND I didn’t get to save the cat, I will always know that I did everything I could to give her a couple of years. It definitely stings that I’m out that money and there’s no big-nosed tabby cat roaming my house. If we had been able to save her, then the financial hit would sting less.

Whenever I think about that sting, though, I remind myself that we had to try and save her. We did, and that helps with the emotions associated with losing a beloved pet. I know that if the vet told me there was something they could have done to potentially give Boomer another year or two, I would have drained my life savings to keep her with me.

I miss this kitty. (Yes, she was 15 years old when she died but she was always a kitty to me.) She would make “tha-thump, tha-thump” noises when she came down the stairs to see what the fiancé and I were doing. She absolutely loved hopping on the coffee table to clean every single nook and cranny on her body. Even though the slorrrping sounds she made were disgusting, I miss that and wish I could hear it again.

The kitty definitely established herself as Top Pet when she moved here, much to Mal’s lament. Mal had about a six-month period between Boomer passing and the fiancé and the kitty moving into the home. Mal is a nervous dog, so I was initially nervous myself that there would be cat and dog fights. Nervous dogs like Mal could be unpredictable if they feel threatened, so those first weeks were nerve-wracking.

What ended up happening was Mal going “nope I’m outta here” whenever the kitty got close to her. Pretty sure Mal never made eye-contact with the cat or if she did, the eye-contact was minimal. I did catch the two of them hanging out together a couple of times, but as soon as they realized I was watching them, Mal did what she does so well – “noping” the hell out of the room.

One day, we will figure out what to do for the wedding fund. It’s not like he and I are going to have a wedding wedding or a wedding with a capital W. This was more for a reception for family and friends after he and elope somewhere and sometime (details I would never discuss openly or online, btw).

She was a good kitty, and she will be so missed.

The 5-year Mark

In less than a week, I am going to be turning 45. I have now made it 5 years past the age that my mom was when she died from metastatic breast cancer. Not going to lie, it’s a bit of a mindfuck.

My mom was my roadmap for all things related to my health issues. If Patricia had it, then I sure as shit was going to also experience it. Because she paved the way, I was able to get doctors to take me seriously and screen me when something was amiss. I could look to see what Patricia went through and the doctors would go, “Yeah, sure, let’s order a scan / test / blood draw.”

I am going on five years since my stage 4 diagnosis, which in of itself is an amazing milestone. My mom died six or so months after she learned her cancer was stage 4. I can no longer look to see what happened to my mom and know what’s going to happen next besides, you know, the obvious. In fairness, that happens to us all.

My health matched hers and my face matched hers. Now, as I get older, I look at the lines and wrinkles in my face, and I don’t see my mother anymore. I look for her but she’s been frozen in time at the age of 40. I am being afforded a privilege that was not granted to her, and for that, I am grateful.

One thing that has definitely differed between my mom and myself is family involvement. When my mom was sick, my grandpa would come up from Texas and visit her somewhat often. Meanwhile my dad hasn’t made an effort to come visit me in the past 4.5 years. Hey, maybe if I’m lucky, my dad might actually come visit me before the 5 year mark? (Just kidding, he won’t.)

Sometimes I imagine that I live in an alternate reality where my mom never died from this wretched disease. In this scenario, I have a parent that actually checks in with me every week or so to see how I am doing. She was a social worker, so maybe my mom would have been up-to-date with all my scans, bloodwork, and knew to ask me about them without me begging her to care. It would have been nice to have lived in that reality but alas, that’s not the one I currently inhabit.

Last time on the phone, my dad did say he would try and come up to see me. You know what I said? “I really don’t expect anything from you so I’m not holding my breath.”

So happy birthday to me and my parental alienation and abandonment issues!

My Broken Heart

It’s been a whole week since I had the vet put my beloved Boomer dog down. I have cried and sobbed so much that I’m convinced I have run out of tears.

Boomer followed me every where. If I was outside doing yard work, Boomer was also outside. If I was inside but her sister Mal was also outside, Boomer would be inside with me. She would keep me company in my office as I worked from home, and Boomer slept on her bed in my bedroom. It broke my heart last year when I had to ban her from going up and down the stairs because she had way too many trip and falls.

Boomer was also a very talkative dog. She barked allllll the time, even when I wanted her to stop. If she was frustrated, she barked. If she wanted my attention, she barked. If she wanted me to play with her and her stuffies, she barked. I could not have picked a more appropriate name for her.

I also didn’t realize how much I talked to Boomer every day or sing absolute unhinged songs about her to her. I would hold full conversations with her about how much I loved her, her silliness, or my day. Now, it is just so quiet in my house. Boomer’s sister is not vocal inside the house (just outside the house).

Even when I kicked my no-good, cheating ex out of my house, I never felt alone because I had Boomer. She was always by my side.

I used to think my past breakups were heartbreaking. They pale in comparison to losing my heart dog. You get over breakup, especially. I will never get over losing Boomer. I still look for her every day. She was my purpose in life when I had none. She gave me a reason to get up when I wanted to stay laying down. She saved me time and time again.

Until we meet again, Boomer. I hope Mom was greeting you at the Rainbow Bridge, and Aunt Maggie (aka the Beags) also met you at the entrance. I loved you every day of your life, and I will love you for the rest of mine. Death can’t and won’t change that.