Paul S

Yeah, we still have some of her meds. It seems strange not seeing her around; I keep expecting her to come around. I still check my rocking chair before sitting down just in case she's on it. (at only 5 pounds, she was little.)

Boots crossed the Rainbow Bridge about two hours ago. She had tried to get up from where she was and stumbled, attracting our attention. I picked her up and brought her over to a couch and cuddled her, a few minutes passed and her breathing began to become labored and she finally died in my arms. We'll bury her tomorrow. She was diagnosed with kidney failure. She hadn't eaten much this past week and we had been giving her subcutaneous fluids to help to. But these past few days she just declined in activity and today was her final day. Boots was a cutie-pie. She absolutely loved getting belly rubs. She'd easily flop down on her side and spread her four legs wide and exposing her fluffy underside. She'd probably happily accept them for hours, if my hands were up to it! She didn't meow, she squeaked. Boots also was a shameless moocher. I mean, really: if I or my wife had food out, she'd be right nearby imitating a vulture perched awaiting a meal. (Our vet says that mooching is a sign that a cat has hyperthyoidism, which she did have.) This included our weekly pill-sorting out session. Rose and I have these weekly pill-box things and when we'd sort our meds and place them in the boxes, Boots would be right there, thinking "Oh, food! Gimme!" She also oftentimes threatened to interrupt the card games my wife and I frequently play; I sometimes tried to bribe Boots with extra tuna or bellyrubs if she would just jump on the playing table and mess up the cards (when my wife was winning. Nope. Wouldn't help me out. Grrls.) She was a good lap cat, crawling into my lap and often burrowing her head in the crook of my arm. Sometimes she'd lick my shirt. Boots liked doing that; not my skin, the cloth. And she ruled the house with a mighty paw. We have another cat, a male Bombay named Ninja who weighs in at 12.5 lbs, to Boots' 5 lbs. Boots totally intimidated him. She didn't care he was bigger. She called the shots. (Ninja is a total luvadub. Craves belly rubvs, too. Always tried to play with Boots, but she'd have none of it. :-( )

(It's been years since I last posted; I was primarily active wayback in 2005-07 in the aftermath of my Mom's death and once in a great while due to my melancholic temperament I get all wistful and wonder what's up with 😍 Marty😍 and the forums in general. This place saved my sanity and was a massive aid in helping me cope in between counseling sessions. Anyway, on with this topic... ) I have found from my personal experience that writing is therapeutic. Any kind of writing that you can do concerning your loss, your grief, and coping with it all. Even if it's just posting a lot to these forums, letting it all out, or starting a blog elsewhere and sharing stuff; writing helps to objectify the pain and hurt and gets it 'out there' where it's observable. You needn't even do all the sharing publicly, as you do on here or on a blog, just keep a private journal that only you can see and read. One great method of writing as therapy is fiction. Just place the entire scenario in fictional form. Dramatize it. Change names if needed, invent new people, perhaps people you imagined would come to your rescue but didn't exist in reality. Put in stuff you wish happened. Whatever You don't have to be good. You don't even have to even publish it (either traditionally through a publisher or by way of self-publishing on Amazon or Smashwords, etc.) One of my favorite writers, Flannery O'Connor, said “I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say.” You'd be surprised at what comes out when you start writing about your experiences. Stuff seems to come from nowhere. But in the end, I always feel better, like I'm no longer alone. And you'll understand yourself and where you've been better.

We brought our garage cat inside yesterday, on the one week anniversary of Mr. Onyx's passing. Ninja is black, also, although smaller. She isn't him, but it's nice to see another black cat around.

Yes, I thought your username was familiar.

He was buried in a garden we've been planning that's next to the house and patio. We wrapped him in an old nightgown that belonged to my wife, Rose (he adored and worshipped her. Seriously, followed her around like a puppy and gazed up at her with total affection and wonder) and placed him in a plastic bag with another laid on top (to help deaden any scent from searching wild noses). With him was a catnip mouse, a catnip scented bag, and some string he like to play with. There's a nice mound there, between two rose bushes we planted last year, and hostas that I rescued from my parent's grave a few years ago (no one was able to tend their graves anymore so I transplanted perennials from it to my house.) Incidentally, it was my Mom's death in November 2005 that initially brought me here. I was fairly active from 12/05 thru mid-2007. This place was VERY helpful in getting me to adjust to the "new normal" and "moving on" without "leaving behind."

He's buried. It wasn't difficult, the ground wasn't frozen, or maybe angels were helping me. It didn't take long. Hard to say about the other kitteh's feelings. I think he resented their existence (to be polite about it.) Anyway, he's now in his final resting place on Earth. I long to be reunited with him someday in Eternity.

I'm in western NY, just south of Buffalo. I'm going to bundle up, heavy-duty Long John undergarments, layered clothing atop that, and the determination that grief can supply.

And today we bury Mr.Onyx. Or at least attempt to as this is Winter and the ground is hard and frozen. Perhaps not so much as his resting place will be near the house. This has been rough.

Thanks for the video, Marty. I tried to play it but got through perhaps 2 minutes before crying. I did add it to a playlist on my YouTube channel, for revisiting later when I can handle it.

That's OK, I understand. Just a few days ago I was dressing for an interview, and I completely forgot how to tie a tie. I'll be 51 in a few weeks.

Thanks... (but my name is Paul, not "Ron." )

Mr. Onyx, (whom I nicknamed "SpeedBump" after his penchant for laying right between wherever anyone was sitting and wherever a doorway is, as well as slowly walking down the hallway before you) died an hour ago. We don't know how old he was as we didn't get him as a kitten. His previous human died from cancer and untreated alcoholism and we took him in as no one else could. He lived with my wife and I for almost exactly 6 years. He is survived by two other kittehs, Jerrie and Ninja. He had an amazing impact on our lives, bringing much joy, love and FUN into them. He even had his own Facebook account! (Which we'll probably take down in a few days after downloading the archive. I may create a memorial Page for him, there.) We will bury him in a garden, next to the house, and we'll plant stuff around him that would attract the birds and bunnies he so loved to watch from the patio window.

Hello all. I was a fairly active member of this site from after my Mom died in 2005 until the summer of 2007. I basically stopped posting because I felt I had "processed" my Mom's death, and moved on. ("Moving on" is not the same as "leaving her" behind. She's still with me, spiritually.) Once in a while I'd return to lurk and see what is going on here. This place saved my sanity and I have a debt of gratitude to Marty. I'd scroll through old posts (mine and other's) and reread things and wonder about people who had helped me here and who also have moved on (an assumption. A huge majority of those who posted around when I was active seem to have also stopped). Anyway, and here is the point I'm getting to: today was Mother's Day and it seems that a lot of my friends (Facebook one) are experiencing their first Mother's Day without their Mom. That got me to thinking of the Grief Healing Discussion Groups. And so I wandered back here. And I am very pleased to have found this new forum. I wish it had been around wayback in 2007, I might not have left! But the idea of a forum where people who have "made it through" the grief, but still ponder the loss years later, can meet and discuss and share. I like this quote from the forum's description: ...You may wish to share with others what you've learned along the way, some signs of your own progress, how this experience has changed you, what discoveries you've made about yourself, or where you plan to go from here... My Mom's death had changed me. The forge I was put through afterwards made a new me. I worked through the grief. It made my religious faith more spiritual, and my spirituality more religious. I no longer view death as an enemy, but at the very least a process, and at best a passage through to our eternal home. It brought my Mom, my Dad, a sister, and others away from This Place ( the world) and into a safer and happier place. (One thing I learned when I was first involved here was the discovery that I hated "They're in a better place." Ick.) Death, particularly my Mom's as that was the one that hit me the hardest, has reminded me that This is Not All That There Is. Death had become to me a reminder that life has importace, it is impermanent, and we may leave behind something. What that something is depends, but it is all that there will be from us, once we are gone. It could be children, creative works, money for endowing institutions, or just a happy legacy of helping others that people will pay forward. My religion teaches that there is an afterlife, and what we do here impacts it. And so the eternal is a focus of my actions. Death has united me (somewhat) with the eternal. And I do not fear death. I actually look forwards to it. Of course I say that now. I'm 49 and mostly healthy! Ask me when I'm on my deathbed! I hope that I'd still "look forwards to it." But right now, facing the reality of my own death is too abstract. When faced with the reality of it, I can't say with certainty. I like to think I'll be prepared, though. I'm here and I hopen that those who were active from late 2005 through 2007 wander back here somehow and see this forum and the "New Beginnings" one. It is weird to miss people you never met in person. But like the people in real life I met at face-to-face grief counseling sessions and support groups, I think a special bond is created. Those drawn together by a loved one's death are connected across the times and distances.

Thanks, Marty! I missed this place but due to a variety of circumstances, I moved on. Even my face-to-face grief support group meetings, both formal and informal at the Syracuse Hospice ended at about the same time I stopped posting here. Something clicked inside and I knew I was "done" with active griefwork. I had processed my Mom's death, incorporated her loss in my life, and settled into a "new normal". I still miss her, but she is with me spiritually. I may post about this in an appropriate forum, give some people hope that "it does get better." I found that you can download whole discussion topics, and so I did that. All of the topics that I started and I think all of other people's topics that I posted to are now in my Mac's hard drive. I was scrolling though them and picked out names of people who showed up for a few weeks or months and then drifted off: "I remember her!!" "Wow! I wonder how he's doing now!!" And so on. I thought of Heaven and how wonderful arriving there would be and meeting up again with people you hadn't seen in decades, and almost forgot about. Death is a type of companion, or guide, or just a process. Not something to be feared or dreaded. At least, not by me.

Well, it's been nearly a year since I last logged in, and nearly 2 1/2 years since I last posted. I just dropped by to see how the site was faring (since it saved my sanity). I must say that I like the new digs. I wish the Facebook-y and Twitter-y elements were around when I was active! That would've been nice. Hi Marty! God Bless, all. Paul

Sometimes you just need to be quiet and alone with your thoughts. If you're consumed by your grief, regardless of how long its been (we all go through periods when it seems like yesterday) people just don't get it or won't understand. Or be "weirded out" by your grief. I'm blessed to have two friends with whom I can unload about it. Of course, they've been hit with deaths recently and not-so-recently, so they "get it."

I'm sorry Shelley that this is a rather late reply, but I kind of know how you feel about the yard sale. I did not participate in the estate sale of my Mom (and Dad's) things way back in Jan 2006, as I just could not cope with the callous way my sister (the estate's executor) considered my Mom's things. I held very nasty thoughts towards everyone who showed up for the sale (I drove past the house once or twice, that was enough!!! ). I can just see people picking through the stuff, making cheap offers. ARRGH!!!! I doubt I'll ever have a yard sale. If I need to get rid of things I'll just donate them to charity or give them away. I don't foresee needing to have one anytime soon, but if I ever move, perhaps I'll re-think it. Take care. Paul

Just one gallon? One gallon ain't big enough for the both of us!

Hey shell. Aside from the usual of not eating/eating too much, I went through a brief obsession with chocolate ice cream. It disappeared for a while, then returned with a vengeance a year ago, still is with me. It has to be chocolate ice cream, not just any ice cream. Any kind of chocolate, but just chocolate. Regular chocolate; double fudge chocolate brownie; chocolate chip chocolate; chocolate cookie dough; chocolate chocolate; whatever. No Neapolitan, had to be just chocolate. Special kinds that reduce the number of calories or fat is OK, too, that way I can eat more! No chocolate candy, either, just chocolate ice cream, whatever variety, as long as it was chocolate. I think you see the pattern. Sometimes my strange eating habits coincide with nostalgic or emotional connections with the food. My Mom was a big salad eater, but it was a long while before I can eat salad. And when I finally did, I felt it was a victory. I still shy away from it now and then, but not as often. I am not sure if it's a dietary imbalance, such as you're lacking in some mineral or vitamin that gets you to crave something, if so, why don't I go after chocolate candy? Or other forms of ice cream? I don't crave milk, or other dairy products, either. It's a puzzle. Mom was a chocoholic, but I don't think that's it. If it was, I'd be stockpiling Hershey's Kisses. If it isn't chocolate ice cream, not interested.

Shelley: The only "real information" that you need to give is your experience and your thoughts and feelings. People can sift through and take what's appropriate for them. We may not have certifications and degrees that enable us to give qualified, informed and therapeutic counseling, but we have the practical experience of having lost someone through death and we can speak from the heart. Paul

Hi shelley: Maybe it's best that you not bother going back to Bowmanville for a while, or perhaps ever. If it's that painful, there's no need for know. "Leaning into the pain" to move through grief is one thing, to torture yourself is another. Paul

Shell: WHO you are is a warm, loving, caring person a lot of people depend on and look up to. May the support you've given here come back to you many-fold.

Hi Shelley, I wish I had suggestions right away, but nothing comes to mind. For me, as a religious person, the answer is easy. It's Easter so I'd focus on the Death and Resurrection of Jesus, and the hope that brings of eventual permanent reunion with our deceased loved ones. Even though the possibility of reunion may be decades away, it still helps me get through it all. It gives me hope, especially that death is not a permanent barrier. For the here and now, maybe check the newspapers or local online directories maybe for something going on around Easter that you can attend or participate in. Paul