Many Departures

I never feel like I have that much going on in my life until I actually sit down to blog when it's been a while. It really makes me realize the extent to which time flies. My cat died not long after my last post. She was on the older side and hadn't been doing that well for a while, so it wasn't completely unexpected. It managed to be wholly devastating anyway though. 

I'm not the sort of person that supports wallowing in emotions like grief or disappointment -- or at least not to the point where it starts to feel like it's doing you more harm than good -- but I can't lie. This has been really hard for me. I've had many pets over the years, but Ched was just special. She's pretty much the only living being I've ever known that I can honestly say never seemed to feel anything toward me but love. It's done me so much good to know that any living thing could really embrace me unconditionally like that because it's certainly more than I can say for even the best humans in my life.

And as tough as it can be to feel sad for the loss of both big and little souls that touch lives, I've realized there's a positive side to grief. It's your proof that you experienced someone and something worth missing. I've literally had whole-ass family members and so-called good friends exit this planet without eliciting so much as a tear from me, let alone full-force grief, but looking back on those relationships, I'm not surprised. They were never there for me. They never laughed with me or cried with me. They never actually acted like they loved me or cared about being part of my life. And to be honest, the feeling was mutual. 

I know a lot of animals are unconditionally loving and loyal -- one reason I've always preferred them to people -- but Ched was that to an unusual degree. She did nothing but love me, even when I got frustrated, irritated, or downright angry with her. I worry that I wasn't always as nice to her as she deserved, but I'm sure she had to have known how loved she was regardless. I tried to show her as much as I could and to the extent that I know how. 

Of Eclipses, Loss, and Transformation

This month has been a tad rough, spiritually speaking. We've got this massive blood moon lunar eclipse coming up in a couple of days here on the 27th and it's had me feeling some kind of way. I've definitely been having one of those months where staying upbeat and excited about life in general seems a bit harder than usual. The same sticking points and problems I always have in my life have seemed more daunting somehow and the things that normally make it better have been less effective for no real reason. Typical me when something odd is going on with the moon.

It hardly helps that a friend of mine died in a truly horrific way last Thursday night. Her name was Angela Coleman and she lived in Indianapolis. She and pretty much her entire family were involved in the Branson, Missouri duck boat accident that's been in the news lately and the great majority of them died -- 9 out of the 11 Colemans that were on the boat.

Angela was an online friend of mine, so I only knew her but so well, but we talked relatively often. I converse with so few people these days, so I think it's fair to say she was one of my closer social media friends. We shared a lot of interests, particularly food and cooking. She signed up for ButcherBox because of how excited I'd always get about receiving and cooking with the things they sent. We traded recipe ideas often and even her son, Donovan, was getting into cooking. She was also a total "take no shit" type of person just like I am, so we bonded over general life stuff a lot too. She was most certainly someone I was always excited to hear from and talk to. She'd even gotten to know Seth over the years, so he knew her as well.

On the Passing of Prince and the Loss of Childhood Heroes

I was so sad to log on today and hear that Prince passed away. Not only was he only 57, but he wasn't really one of those celebrities that partied so damn hard you just knew it was a matter of time. Actually, although there hasn't been an official announcement as to the cause of death yet, it sounds like he spent the last few weeks ill with a very persistent case of the flu and just wound up collapsing suddenly at home. He probably should have been in the hospital if he was that sick, although who knows if that would have made a difference.

Like a lot of people, I'm astonished at how many legends we've lost recently. Seriously... legends. People like Prince and David Bowie are icons that seem to transcend their very humanity on so many levels. It seems surprising somehow when such people actually die eventually just like everyone else. It's even harder to swallow when they die for reasons like this. You want to think someone as superhuman as Prince could never be killed by something we've all experienced, like the flu, but there it is all the same.

I've always heard that one of the hardest things about entering middle age is that you start losing older family members -- people like your parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. No one warns you that it's also hard to start losing your childhood heroes -- the people you grew up in awe of. The people whose creations shaped who you eventually became and helped you get through your younger years in one piece. 

Happy Birthday, Robin Williams

Last night, I dreamed that I met Robin Williams in the afterlife. He was hosting a party at his house in heaven. It had really huge glass windows, retro 60's furniture, and a fully stocked bar area. People were drinking martinis and lounging around on bean bag chairs. The walls were covered in dark green velvet and each guest was wearing blue, purple, or green. Some people were also wearing Mardi Gras beads. I had on a purple dress with green feather trim. I also had a fan made of peacock feathers.

Robin Williams was wearing this peacock blue suit and a striped tie. He was going around to everyone that was there, saying hello and welcoming them to his home. When he got to me, he told me I had the most radiant hair he'd ever seen and said: "It gets better, you know. Don't worry. You won't have to bring it either." He knew I was going to ask him how he was feeling -- particularly whether he'd been required to carry his depression to heaven.