Originally posted May 3, 2006

so i was woken up at 2:30 this morning by the sound of my lovely fat monster of a cat hacking up a hairball outside my bedroom door.  nice.  thanks for that.  so i haul my tired self out of bed, blearily clean up cat puke, wash my hands and stumble back to bed.  round 1:  cats 1, beth 0.

no sooner had i drifted back off to sleep, hoping to be rewarded for my noble cat puke clean-up with some lovely dreams, than my other furry monster (who gave the fat cat the hairball to begin with) decided that he needed attention (and now, damnit!) and proceeded to butt his head against my face and meow.  not being able to sleep with a cat nose in my eye i complied.  round 2:  cats 2, beth 0.

Originally posted  March 19, 2006

A year ago today my uncle lost his battle with lung cancer. I spent time with him when I could during that year, but wish that I had come home a little more often. I was 2 hours from his house, on my way down from Virginia when he passed. I knew the moment it happened and looked up at the sky and saw a hole appear in the clouds letting gentle rays of light shine down. It was a peaceful moment.

It was not until days or maybe even weeks later that I fully realized what I had lost. This person who had been such a part of of my life — though often in the background — left a silence that is still hard to deal with. I know the drill of loss — it’s ebb over time, the guilt you feel when a day first goes by without thinking of them, how it sometimes catches you off guard when you realize they are no longer around — but it doesn’t make it less painful to know what to expect.

So today, instead of moping or lamenting to the heavens, I will think of him as I cook (he was always up to taste one of my culinary experiments), toast him with a drink just a little too early in the day (because it’s five o’clock somewhere, as he always used to say), and I will enjoy what I can see of him in myself and know that I am a better person for having had him in my life.