I miss her so much

I know it's been 2½ weeks, but the pain is so very real. I miss her everywhere I go. Songs I hear that I've sung to her, places that she just SHOULD be sitting. Saying "kitty" instead of "kitties". Using the past tense. Why? What the hell? How could this happen? What if when *I* went in for a blood draw, had a panic attack (as usual), and the nurse came out and told my mother or my boyfriend that I DIED? That is what this is like. Priscilla is/was a person to me. Thirteen years of her was not enough, she wasn't sick, she was beautiful and full of love and life. We had PLANS. Yes, we talked often. Every day, most of the day actually, and it is very quiet here now. Buddy has been coming to sit on my desk now and then, but he is battling his own demons. All the shitty things I've been through, this is by far the worst. When I moved out on my own 9 years ago, I had Cilla and Buddy. I say, yes, I've lived alone for 9 years - it is an accomplishment to have lived an autonomous life, without a man living here for that long. However I was missing something important in my own observation. I was never really alone. Cilla served as an idol for me, she comforted my fears, she gave me direction, she gave me her strength and her energy. She was giving of herself to keep me alive, make me better, make me braver. She served as my "rock" in an ever changing world where my anxious personality has problems. I didn't give her enough credit, though I think I gave her enough love, I hope I did. The blame is starting to wane, thanks to the petloss support group I joined and my doctor. But the waves of pain and fear, even within the haze of the handfuls of pills I take, they are overwhelming. Overwhelming to the point in which I think none of my friends even want to be in the vicinity. And feeling alone is difficult. Luckily Eric has been there for me through thick and thin. Often not saying much, occasionally looking up a passage in a book he once read. Sometimes for his benefit and sometimes for mine. He cannot replace my Lady. And I am terribly fearful to trust any one with that much of myself again, much less a HUMAN. That's how I got in this position in the first place. I never imagined living without her, or at least when I did it was years off. I'm a fence post with no wires anymore, just balancing. Fearfully fragile. Fractionated. Susceptible.

my sweet lady, Cilla


the photo on her urn


I realize that
"Grief is the obverse of happiness. They are two sides of a single coin, and only the vulnerable know either."--Irving Townsend

But that doesn't make it hurt less, it just makes you realize that there are pathetic people in the world who do not actually live their lives because they are afraid. Yet this pain has created a fear in me that I've never known.

so much for this becoming a funny blog.

Shield of Serenity

A poem I wrote in October 2002

Shield of Serenity

I am lying here under a shield of purring serenity.
I shroud myself here, wishing I never had to leave.
I find myself returning here often
Because the outside world eats away on my soul.
Sometimes I think if I could escape here,
Enwrapped in the cool sheets and an ironic warmth,
I could burrow to another world,
One which I may actually relate to.
Taking with me my Bast messengers
They accept my world, they make it lucid, safe.
A world otherwise overtaken by fear and
A heart vandalized and abused.
I have given up trying to discern
Why I was chosen to be cloaked
In this darkness for this life.
Merely thin skin stretched over fire.
I feel at ease here, peaceful.
Tunneling under the cool covers
Feeling the warmth of the souls
Beneath my purring shield of serenity.