Mewsings from Lowecat (aka Indianacat)

My rants, ravings, and overall 'mewsings' on life, the universe, and everything.

Sunday, June 01, 2014

Another year has come and gone, yet the loss is still as fresh as if it happened yesterday.  4 May of this year will mark the second year since Daddy died, and not a day goes by that I don't miss him. 

It's strange, because I've lost other family members  - great grand and grand parents, great uncles and aunts, family friends, even pets - none of those losses have stayed with me the way the loss of Daddy has.

Easter wasn't easy, as it was a very important day in our household as the celebration of the Resurrection of the Christ.  We'd get up early Easter Sunday, all dolled up in brand new clothes (back in the day, little girls wore hats, patent leather black shoes and gloves to Church!) with a corsage Daddy would get for my birth mother and I on our dresses.  Hers was usually an orchid and mine was a carnation.   Daddy would preach about the significance of the day, we would have an Easter breakfast at the church, then another service and Easter Egg Hunt at home.   Daddy would be worn out by the time dinner was over and would fall asleep in his chair watching or listening to the Cubbies (if baseball season had started) or with the television on to a movie.

Because of the let - downs that the United Methodist Conference threw at me following Daddy's death, I've lost my affinity for organized religion.  This was the first Easter Sunday that I didn't make the effort to go to church.  Instead, I got on my motorcycle and took a long ride through the countryside, following the back roads in Marion County, thinking of Daddy and of the significance of the day.  I imagine he was spinning in his grave, but going to church with all the anger I feel for what 'Church' really is right now just didn't seem worth the effort.

The United Methodist Conference has a slogan right now called 'Rethink Church'.  The thing is, 'Church', at least where the UMC is concerned, has become more about kow towing to the special needs than it is about feeding the spiritual needs.  The churches these days look more like auditoriums for shows than worship centers, with projection screens and individual chairs instead of the familiar pews. 

Maybe if I could find a small, country church that acts like the churches I grew up in, my faith in organized religion might return.  But for now, I believe in God, and that Daddy is indeed in Heaven with the other saints.  I just don't see a lot of spirituality on Earth these days. 

So this Sunday, I'm makin' a road trip to Daddy's gravesite, likely with the car because of rain probabilities.  But I'm goin' to talk to him, and to remember him, and will definitely mourn him. 

And then I'll go visit the triplets and their brother and my neice and her fiance, and enjoy them for a little bit, and then come home. 

And continue to miss him.

A Message fpr All Grieving Pet Parents

Dear Pet Parent

You looked at me with such sadness and incredible guilt when you decided the time had come to give me my freedom from pain.  The sadness I could understand, but why you feel guilty for giving me the ulitmate gift from your loving heart?  I don't blame you.  I love you for having the courage to allow me to leave this world with grace, dignity, and no pain. 

We had a great life together from the day I chose you to be my human.  You loved me, fed me, took care of me, and prevented me from adding to the unwanted pet population.  You gave me the best years of my life.  We knew that eventually the day would come when we'd have to part for awhile, but thanks to your love and care, that day took a long time to arrive. 

But it finally did arrive.  I got sicker and weaker with each passing day.  You took me to the vet, gave me medicines, worried about me.  I might not have always appreciated your efforts at the time, but I knew you did it because you loved me and wanted me to get well.  

There came a time when the medicines weren't working, and I became less happy in Life.  I couldn't play, couldn't walk, couldn't sit on your lap.  It hurt to live, and worse, it hurt to love you.   All I wanted to do was cross the Rainbow Bridge where I could be myself again. 

You bravely took me for our final ride together, and brought me to the vet.  You cried so hard when you said 'goodbye' for the final time.  I wished then for the gift of human speech to be able to comfort you, and to tell you that it was OK, that I was ready and loved you for having the courage to help set me free from pain.  

Yes, I'm gone from this plane of existence.  I can no longer sit on your lap or lie beside you and purr.  I can't chase after you from room to room, nor play with my toys anymore.  But that's OK.  I'm free from pain.  I can frolic and enjoy all the things I used to love before the sickness took over.  The only thing missing is YOU. 

But I can see you from time to time, and it breaks my little heart that you feel so guilty.  Please take comfort in that fact that I loved you then, and I love you now.  I'll always be curled up in your heart, and i'll be waiting for you on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.