I’m up in Hoosick Falls where the Brown’s have not one but TWO good black kitties. Ya know, if black cats really were bad luck, I’d be all for unleashing 50,000 or so of them on the entire, vile Republican party. Maybe a metric ton or three of black cats could, ya know, shake the joint up a bit.
In any case, last night we celebrated The Amazing Bob’s birthday again with Chinese food and carrot cake. This was good – food and company were great! I’m beginning to collapse under grief’s weight though.
I’ve been dreaming about TAB nearly every night this past week. In only one was he healthy and happy. In that one, he’d just bought us new digs in Winter Hill (in Somerville – one town over from Cambridge). It was a three story side by side duplex – a Victorian in a lovely buttercup color. Jen and Oni would live on one side, us on the other. Standing in front of our new Valhalla, he was so proud, so tall, so happy, so handsome.
My other dreams have ranged from horrifying nightmare to just flat out mega sad. In one of this morning’s episodes, TAB, Jen and I were just home from the hospital. He was utterly exhausted. The three of us piled into bed – TAB in the middle. Jen and I petted him, speaking soothing words. You did great today. You’re doing well. You’re gonna be OK.
The wonderful Palliative Care department at Mass General just sent me another note. They know I’ve hit the 6 month mark. Included in the packet was a sheet with tips for handling grief at the holidays (also here at the link). I’ve been doing all the good bits they suggest:
- NOT overeating or drinking
- doing special things for myself (book shopping!)
- expressing my feelings (hello blog and Janice)
- NOT isolating myself
- letting myself cry
- accepting help
- donating time and money in his name
- quelling my knee-jerk guilt (if only I’d played Scrabble with him more!)
Today, Helen and I will hit The Clark and then MASS MoCA. We’ll lunch out and then, this evening, Madison has a basketball game. I’ve not been to a bball game since high school – ought to be interesting.
Tomorrow I’ll drive up over Hogback Mountain and, undoubtedly, stop at Freight House Antiques in Erving on my way back to Valhalla. If they’ve got more blown glass squids, well, they’re coming home with me. Can't have too many glass cephalopods, I always say. //snort//
I’ll walk in our front door – Coco will greet me there and Rocco will come to the top of the steps to say ‘bout time you got home, Missy! but TAB won’t be there.
This, this right here mon ami, is TOTALLY fucked up!