At approximately 3:40am yesterday morning, we lost a beloved family member. He died in Jeanette's arms in the emergency room. Chessie was a wonderful and special little feline. He was the ripe old age of 17 1/2 when he passed away.
Chessie was orginally our family cat, Allen, Jordan and myself. However, at one time, Smidgen was so out of control and so determined to attack Chessie that we let Jeanette take him to live w/her. [I have had an immense amount of guilt about that over the years.] But it was a godsend for all involved. Chessie had an indoor home where he was spoiled rotten over the years. We didn't have to worry about him being outside [where he'd been resigned to due to Smidgen's issues] and Jeanette had a precious loving companion.
Over the years, we've enjoyed Chessie's company, always making certain he had Christmas presents... he was tough to buy for since he wasn't too fond of toys. Chessie was not much on catnip or other vices, but he did believe in being fed well [and often, lol]
A running story line in our family was that Chessie was the old general store owner.. [because he was the family feline patriarch] and that Smidgen worked for him... though Smidgen is aging quickly as well. Smidgen himself is now 16 1/2 years old. But as the story grew, Mickey [our youngest] would run through Chessie's General Store and knock things down w/his little backpack. It was a long running and entertaining yarn strewn throughout the years.... but at 3:40 am yesterday the lights went dark in the general store for the final time.
Jeanette called at 2am, hysterical [though we knew it was possibly emminent] saying Chessie was dying. I could hear him in the background and recognized the sound from Elijah's final moments. I quickly dressed and Jordan drove us to Jeanette's to be w/him. One look told me that his passing was at hand. It broke my heart to see him so helpless and to know I couldn't really do anything to help him. I told Jeanette to get dressed and we would take him to the emergency room where they could euthanize him and alleviate his suffering in the last moments. [we have an animal emergency room in our community... a wonderful facility, pricey, but most definitely a godsend in the afterhours]. When we arrived, I thought for a moment he'd already passed away enroute. But he took another ragged breath shortly after. They attempted to get an IV started for what seemed like forever, but they were unsuccessful, his little veins were collapsed and his blood pressure was very low. Finally they brought him back into the room w/us and we just held him, telling him how special he was, how much he'd be missed but that we knew he was tired.... in a matter of minutes, he was gone.
Life will be different w/out Chessie, especially for Jeanette who spent every day in his company. Jordan, my son, was particularly fond of Chessie. They were always very close. It broke my heart for him as well. At 24, the only time I could really recall ever seeing him cry was when my daddy passed away in 1993. He was heartbroken in the emergency room when we all said our g'byes. That brought even more tears to my eyes, seeing my sweet son's heart in pain and knowing I couldn't help him, I couldn't make the situation better for him. I held him close and we cried together for a while, but in the end, we each must grieve in our own way, on our own time.
Funeral services for Chessie will be held on Tuesday. I know it will again be a time of heartache. A yank at the bandaid currently covering the wound. But it will give us a chance to lay Chessie to rest and say our final g'byes.
Not only will Chessie's passing leave a large gap in our world and in our hearts.. but he has pointed out the mortality of the remaining seven feline furbabies in our home. So we mourn what we've lost and worry for the future. We pray that time will ease the pain of losing Chessie and that such a lost will not overshadow our hearts again for a long time to come.
Chessie was a sweet, gentle little soul. Solid black, we found it ironic that our little halloween cat would have that holiday as the day of his passing. I hope that as he waits to meets us on the next plane that he is once again healthy, happy and enjoying life.
We love you Chessie.... you will be sadly missed by many for years to come. Rest well my sweet little furbaby.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Tuesday, March 24th, 2009
My aunt is dying. That statement in and of itself saddens me. This is an aunt that I am particularly fond of. [and trust me when I say I have plenty to chose from]. She has always been a little bit on the wild side. Which is probably one of the many reasons I love her so. She has lived life on her terms. It seems she is determined to die that way as well. She has chosen to forego any chemo. She spoke to doctors and weighed her options. Then she decided to let the chips fall where they may. As she put it... "If God wants me to stay, I'll stay here a while longer, but if he wants me to go, then I'll go." I'm happy that she sounds resolved in her decision. I don't want her to be afraid.
I have to admit though... that I wonder how she accepts the fact that each night as she lays down to sleep, there may be no tomorrow. How do you lie down, relax enough to sleep and drift off not knowing if you'll wake up ever again? [at least in this frame of life] I wonder what goes through her mind, what a person must think. I would be concerned for my son, though he is grown now. I would also worry about my husband [though he has grown quite abit himself lately]. And I would worry for my cats, my furbabies. I'm sure Allen would take care of their needs.... but I provide the majority of lovings. And they are accustomed to that.
When I was younger, I was afraid of dying. I'm sure everyone is at some point. Since the death of my father I'm no longer afraid to die. I know now that we go on past this life. Death is not a stopping point. Like everyone, I'm sure, I hope my death itself is quick and painless. [Though I've always said I hope I go out in a spectacular way that leaves people talking for years to come and that does pretty much eliminate going quietly in the night.]
I've given death a great deal of thought over the years. I have seen many people die and been with many more in the hours following their death. I've wondered about the mundane... would she have worn that if she'd known she was going to die?..... would she have eaten that healthy meal instead of a rich dessert if she's known that was her last meal? But I've also wondered what their final thoughts were. Some were aware they were dying, some, most likely, never had a chance for that final thought. The average person doesn't realize how flimsy life really is.
Perhaps thats why the thought of my aunt's impending death is weighing so heavy on my mind. She is saying her g'byes, making her wishes known, and knowing my aunt, has done what she hopes to do. Because she was given notice. More of us need to live as though we've been given notice. Do all the things we want to do. I know money is a major issue... it is for me as well. But, I do have to say I've gotten to do things other people would never do. I've accomplished several things from my '101 Things to Do Before I Die' list. And I'm not done yet! I hope when I do die, it can be with a minimum of regrets.
I feel for my cousins as well. Having lost my father, I know losing a beloved parent can be heartwrenching. Sixteen years later, I still miss him and think of him daily. Death is often harder on those left behind, in my opinion. One of the most heartbreaking sights I've ever seen was watching a set of parents walk away after identifying their teenage son killed in a car accident. There are some images that will stay w/a person their entire life, wanted or not. That's one of mine. The sight of them walking away from me, from their son. You could see the heavy weight literally dragging at them. You knew their pain was beyond any description. I knew they were living my worst nightmare and it tore at my heart that there nothing in the world I could do to ease that pain. Even now, years later, they are never far from my thoughts.
The photo that is on my blog page is a bittersweet photo for me. The haze you see is the dwindling smoke still coming from the fatal fire we'd worked all night long. We were waiting for the hotspots to be cooled and the building made safe so we could go in and retrieve the body. I took that photo as the sun came up over the horizon... amazed that such a beautiful morning could follow such a treacherous night. A whole new day. A second chance for all those who had made it through the night. A blaze of glory in memory of those who didn't.
It just blends together, all a part of the same thing, life and death. You can't have one w/out the other. As I've sat writing this... many people have left us. Yet many more have come to find their own way in this world. One cannot replace the other. Each will eventually leave their own impact on our world, hopefully in a positive way.
I hope that when the day comes that my son will have to tell those who'll never know me about his mother, it will be w/love and pride. I hope he will speak of my kind heart and love for those around me. I hope he talks of generosity and selflessness. Though realistically, I'm sure there will be both negative and positive. I am, after all, only human. I've had my good moments and my bad moments. I only hope the good outweighs the bad in the end.
I have to admit though... that I wonder how she accepts the fact that each night as she lays down to sleep, there may be no tomorrow. How do you lie down, relax enough to sleep and drift off not knowing if you'll wake up ever again? [at least in this frame of life] I wonder what goes through her mind, what a person must think. I would be concerned for my son, though he is grown now. I would also worry about my husband [though he has grown quite abit himself lately
When I was younger, I was afraid of dying. I'm sure everyone is at some point. Since the death of my father I'm no longer afraid to die. I know now that we go on past this life. Death is not a stopping point. Like everyone, I'm sure, I hope my death itself is quick and painless. [Though I've always said I hope I go out in a spectacular way that leaves people talking for years to come and that does pretty much eliminate going quietly in the night.]
I've given death a great deal of thought over the years. I have seen many people die and been with many more in the hours following their death. I've wondered about the mundane... would she have worn that if she'd known she was going to die?..... would she have eaten that healthy meal instead of a rich dessert if she's known that was her last meal? But I've also wondered what their final thoughts were. Some were aware they were dying, some, most likely, never had a chance for that final thought. The average person doesn't realize how flimsy life really is.
Perhaps thats why the thought of my aunt's impending death is weighing so heavy on my mind. She is saying her g'byes, making her wishes known, and knowing my aunt, has done what she hopes to do. Because she was given notice. More of us need to live as though we've been given notice. Do all the things we want to do. I know money is a major issue... it is for me as well. But, I do have to say I've gotten to do things other people would never do. I've accomplished several things from my '101 Things to Do Before I Die' list. And I'm not done yet! I hope when I do die, it can be with a minimum of regrets.
I feel for my cousins as well. Having lost my father, I know losing a beloved parent can be heartwrenching. Sixteen years later, I still miss him and think of him daily. Death is often harder on those left behind, in my opinion. One of the most heartbreaking sights I've ever seen was watching a set of parents walk away after identifying their teenage son killed in a car accident. There are some images that will stay w/a person their entire life, wanted or not. That's one of mine. The sight of them walking away from me, from their son. You could see the heavy weight literally dragging at them. You knew their pain was beyond any description. I knew they were living my worst nightmare and it tore at my heart that there nothing in the world I could do to ease that pain. Even now, years later, they are never far from my thoughts.
The photo that is on my blog page is a bittersweet photo for me. The haze you see is the dwindling smoke still coming from the fatal fire we'd worked all night long. We were waiting for the hotspots to be cooled and the building made safe so we could go in and retrieve the body. I took that photo as the sun came up over the horizon... amazed that such a beautiful morning could follow such a treacherous night. A whole new day. A second chance for all those who had made it through the night. A blaze of glory in memory of those who didn't.
It just blends together, all a part of the same thing, life and death. You can't have one w/out the other. As I've sat writing this... many people have left us. Yet many more have come to find their own way in this world. One cannot replace the other. Each will eventually leave their own impact on our world, hopefully in a positive way.
I hope that when the day comes that my son will have to tell those who'll never know me about his mother, it will be w/love and pride. I hope he will speak of my kind heart and love for those around me. I hope he talks of generosity and selflessness. Though realistically, I'm sure there will be both negative and positive. I am, after all, only human. I've had my good moments and my bad moments. I only hope the good outweighs the bad in the end.
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