I wake to the warmth of the dog next to my back and the weight of the two cats on my legs. Jenny, the dog, rarely leaves my side. She follows me room to room day and night. The cats, Cleo and Niles, sleep all day, prowl through the house half the night, but always end up by morning on my bed.
It’s comforting and somehow reassuring to wake surrounded by the animals. They’re my family. My teachers. My saviors. What would I do without them? They are always there. No ceiling on their love or acceptance. They make no promises, but they deliver so much. I am truly grateful to have them in my life.
A familiar sound. Like Ken at his desk in his office. Opening a drawer. Sifting through papers. I picture him. Facing his desktop. Hands on the keyboard. The green gooseneck lamp casting a warm light across his hands.
How many mornings did I wake finding him there? Not yet gone to bed.
What is it this morning? Where is it coming from?
It has to be the cats. They’ve been acting up since the day he died. Opening doors and drawers. Emptying the contents on the floor. Jumping onto furniture. Knocking things over–lamps, flower pots, telephone. It’s been nine months and Niles still sleeps in Ken’s bed during the day, worming his way underneath the covers, forming a soft mound. Sometimes Cleo walks into his room as if she’s looking for him, as if she remembers.
Nine months without Ken, fifteen years without Scott, thirteen years without John, seven years since Forrest died. Numerous other relatives and friends passing on.
Why are they gone and I’m here? Why do the seasons come and go? Over and over. Again and again. What is the purpose of it all? None of it makes any sense.
This first entry will be short. It’s just to get started. I’ve been putting it off for so long. My son, Ken, who lived with me, was in the process of creating a new blog for me when he passed away. I found the new blog harder to use, so I’m starting over. I hope to reconnect with some of my old blogging friends and to find some new ones.
My life remains pretty much the same–doctor’s appointments, dealing with hypertension, caring for my animals, reading, writing, watching the furry visitors outside, fixing my meals, and watching TV.
I’ve taken a couple of writing courses online and had a book of poems published.
My ex-daughter-in-law, whom I love dearly, is seriously ill in the hospital. I’ve been doing a lot of praying. Losing so many of my special ones over the years has grabbed the joy and left me feeling fairly empty. That, and my own future passing, are constant sorrows in my soul.