Recently, I vowed to myself that I would write once a day for my blog or at least respond to any of the authors whose blogs I follow. I think it’s important that as a writer, I still keep some sort of freer writing dedicated to nothing with no deadline whatsoever. It keeps things in perspective for me, gives me an outlet to just write about whatever my heart desires, and frees up some of my erroneous thoughts that just may help me in my professional writing. It’s sort of like dusting out the cobwebs in those vast, deep, dark places of my brain that will hopefully let light in, thus allowing my creativity to flow in my other writing.
I’m not quite sure what I’m feeling right now. Part of me is despondent. A friend has lost another animal. She and her partner have lost a total of at least four cats in the last several months, and it breaks my heart. These are animals I would sit for when my friend was out of town. They felt as much a part of my family as my fur babies have been part of hers. It’s heart wrenching for me as I am in love with all creatures.
There was a funeral this past week of a lovely lady who, grandmotherly as she was, I discovered was a bit of a spitfire back in her younger years. I learned that she was unsure of the father of one of her children. And she had the most beautiful, crystal clear, blue eyes. Unfortunately, with the open casket, most worldly vessels (our bodies) have closed eyes, so I couldn’t see them one last time. She was a talented needlepoint artist, too. She created something for me and my husband for our wedding day which still hangs in a prominent place in our home. What I didn’t know was the extent of her artistry. Walking to the back of the funeral home, I noticed what I thought were paintings, but instead, the closer I got, the faster I realized the displays were her needlepoint artwork. On a side table stood portraits in curved rows, all facing some imaginary center.
Death is not something I deal with much at all. I don’t know how, I don’t understand it, but I definitely hope there’s something on the other side of this life, something to help me continue on to where I want to go or where I need to go or both. I often question if there is just nothing after this life. So, I don’t deal much with death of any creature, and I don’t deal well with loss of most anything or any living thing.
The older I get, however, the more death I experience.