It's been a long time comin'...

Well worth the wait? Not sure about that.

I haven't posted since January, and as I sit waiting for Hamlet to get out of bed one more time (I havta pee, Mommy), I can attempt to organize my thoughts.

If, for no other reason, than to move the announcement of Jaz's death farther down the page...

In March my grandmother died. She was 87 and the lymphoma that had been plaguing her for two years finally won. Her quality of life was good until the last three weeks and then it became too late too fast. I am sad that my son will not remember this wonderful woman, but we have pictures to show him - he and his Great Grandma sharing a couch; taking a stroll. We can keep her alive for him.

The funeral and interaction of my father and his siblings spiralled into the insanity that these things usually do. My father had flattered himself for years, saying that his family would never be so petty, so callous. Wrong and wrong sir. As he puts it himself, he's now offically an orphan. And I fear his relationship with his brothers and sister, tenuous at best due to half a country between them, are forever changed.

My job is looking more and more secure as my counterpart from our new parent company soundly proves himself incompetent. Oddly, to look good, I just have to tread water. (But I'm not, of course).

We are building a new house, which means we have to put this one up for sale. I don't really mind that part, but it's the preparation that's killing me. So many things to get done and so little energy left at the end of the day. I'm hoping, but not holding my breath, that the in-laws will take Hamlet for the weekend soon so Mister Hammy and I can bust out the final polishes. Hard to do when you're dancing attendance on a three year old.

And I sooo resent that every time I sit down, there's a little voice in my head saying "shouldn't you be painting/polishing/cleaning/sorting/arranging something?"

GAH.

Speaking of the voice in my head....time to get back to it.

Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone...

Jaz flickers on the outside of my vision. My brain tries to reconcile her absence by placing shadows; my heart breaks when I have to remind myself that she's not there.

Today has been one long snowfall, what Mr. Hammy and I call "insidious snow". The fall seems inconsequential until you realize that it's been going on for 12 or 14 hours...

The snow and wind wiped Jaz's footprints from the backyard. Was it harder to look out the window and see them, or look out and not see them?

Passing of a Good Dog

We had to put Jaz down yesterday.

She wasn’t well Wednesday night; couldn’t get off the couch and wouldn’t eat her dinner. I took her to the vet, and they kept her overnight. Xrays yesterday morning showed a mass in her abdomen – cancer. Nothing they could do.

We went at 12:30, to be with her. Told her she was a good girl. Gave her smooches. Held her as she left us.

Jasmine

(Can. Ch. Guiding Light's Rising Star)

aka Jazzy-Bug, aka Buggy, aka Jazamin, aka Jazabelle

October 25, 1998 – January 15, 2009

Never met a lap she didn’t like

These pictures are 4 or 5 years old - Jaz in her prime.

Jaz this summer....

My heart

It seems full these days; my heart that is.

Hamlet's birthday was on the 13th of December and we work very hard to make sure he gets a birthday, not just a pre-christmas.

Side note: After watching the present carnage in our family room, his grandmother made it a point to tell my three year old son, on his birthday, that perhaps he now had enough toys and that he didn't need any more for Christmas. Mentioned it several times in fact before she left. Ha freakin' ha. She seemed quite surprised when we called to tell her that Hamlet, when asked in subsequent days what Santa was going to bring him, said "No toys Mommy. Grammy says I have enough toys." Lady, he's a kid, not a potted plant. He hears you.

Hamlet tells me a secret today. "Just for you Mommy. A secret in yous ear." He comes close and whispers, "I love you." Oh. My.

Christmas day and there are presents and presents. He munches on the crumbs Santa left behind - cookies don't just eat themselves you know. He wakes from his nap and we have to hurry to get ready, get in the car, get on the road...but I hold him as he surfaces. "What did you dream about puppy?" I ask him as he leans against me, blanket cuddled close. "I dreamed about you and Daddy and Hamlet; family Mommy." "Was it a good dream, love?" "Family dreams is best," he asserts, snuggles closer.

It seems these days that we are a family in flux. We are working on renovations to put our house up for sale; we are going to build the house we've been dreaming of for years. My company is being purchased by another, with the deal becoming final January 2, 2009. I've been assured that my job is secure, and that my expertise is appreciated and much sought after by our new parent. But the future and its path is a little uncertain, and I've been burned before.

Painting, repairing, handymen, contractors, builders, bosses, assistants....so many moving parts that when I stop, I can still feel the cogs moving and clicking. And I find myself impatient with my three-year-old - his moods, his demands, and isn't it bedtime yet??

And then...

"Mommy, I have a secret for you..."

Well, and I thought I hated October...

Seriously, November has taken the cake. I was starting to fray around the edges, because in the last five years, October has consistently taken me out back and kicked my ass.

November must have been feeling overlooked.

I'm sitting at my desk and I hear crying. "What's wrong?" someone asks. In a rush of breath and tears I hear someone say, "I think he's dead!" My.heart.stops. And then they call my name, and it's time to be a professional. Time to decide the steps to take. To look people in the eye and make sure they stop, think. Breathe.

(inside I'm saying ohgodohgodohgod; and I don't believe in god, but something in my brain needs something to say to keep it running)

It's a mistake right? Please call us back and tell us that he's in the hospital. Injured, but alive. A terrible mistake; so sorry to have worried you.

(it's not)

I speak to a man hours away, whose sentences end in quiet sobs as he says, "I'm so sorry." Soon, I'm in the car on the way to pick up a co-worker to be part of my investigation team. We'll be speaking to officials, witnesses, picking up personal effects, retrieving equipment.

(my heart is so tight, my breath is shallow; the worst has happened and I never wanted to be here, but I knew that someday I could)

The next day, I feel myself shatter a thousand times, but it can't show. My eyes burn from the tears I refuse. I promise myself a thorough falling-apart, but later; it must be later.

It's so very hard, going back to work and seeing the people with questions I cannot answer. I teeter on the edge of anger and sorrow for days; short of patience and short on time.

(I can't go to the funeral, I can't, I can't, I've been living death, his death, for days)

I quell my inner coward and go to the funeral, because it's the right thing to do. My turmoil does not compare to that of family (wife, children, friends, ohgodohgod)

And so, one day at a time, one step at a time.

"We'll never be the same, will we?" asks my boss, my saviour in so many things.

"No sir." I say, "We never will."

Don't look back

Mythology is full of examples.

Orpheus lost his Eurydice because he turned to make sure she was following him out of Hades. Psyche lost Eros because she allows the distrust of others to break the covenants between them.

Lot's wife became a pillar of salt, frozen in time, for looking back.

It's so hard, to choose to move forward. I've seen what living in the past can do to a person. It can reduce you to a victim, characterised solely by the hardship you've endured. It can turn your relationships into eternal games of one-upmanship where no one wins, and everyone hurts.

I won't live like that. But it's not easy.

I don't forget things - dates, occasions. Which seems to have turned into a bit of a curse as my brain endeavours to remind me exactly where I was and what I was doing two years ago. Do you remember Hammy? This is the day.... Do you remember? This is how it felt.

Flashes of breathlessness; of pain.

No. I say, no.

I won't stay here. I won't be trapped in yesterday. I won't let the backward glance poison my forward vision. I won't allow the choices of others to dictate how I will live, think, feel. A mantra of sorts, eh?

Now, if I was being perfectly successful with this premise, I probably wouldn't be writing about it. But, you fall down, you cry, you get up, you start again. Lather; rinse; repeat.

Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight. You've got to kick at the darkness until it bleeds daylight.

To sleep, perchance to dream

This cough is kicking my ass. I've spent over a week sleeping in 1-2 hour stints. The bags under my eyes are sooo big...(how big are they?)....too tired for cheesy cliche involving luggage.

But now, I've got its number. Crawled to the doctor, and was prescribed the magic elixar Cophylac. The only cough medicine I've ever been given that you MEASURE BY THE DROP PEOPLE. Seriously, the dosage is "15 drops twice daily".

It's 9:35 pm, and I'm counting my drops. Bwaaa haaa haaa!!!!