Unexpected Death in the Family

My aunt. She was 95, so why was her death unexpected? Well, she was one of those you think may live forever. She was my dad's only remaining sibling. I got the news, and dreaded having to tell him. He took it stoically. I expected that, but I know he will grieve in his own way and in private. His family, those Germans, they put on that brave face.

This aunt was a complicated lady. She was not warm and fuzzy. She was kind of a rock, really. Judgmental. Prudish. Stubborn. Even a little mean sometimes, but she was also the image of my paternal grandmother. I know this from pictures. Tiny women, both of them, with thin gray hair and round faces. Merry eyes, but also piercing, intelligent. There was no fooling with this little woman, you didn't dare.

All that aside, she had friends all over the world. She had a male housekeeper, an Asian man, for 30 years. They went on missionary trips, she and her late husband of 60+ years. She once wrote a memoir and gave it to me to read and to give an opinion. I did a little editing on it. I think that irked her. I also told her I thought it could be published with a little bit more tweaking, adding some more details, fleshing it out some. I don't think she ever did that. Most of the time these things are done for posterity anyway, and to plump the family history. I'll probably dig out that memoir to read again, after all these years have gone by since I read it the first time.

A stroke is what took her. Finally. She'd been having mini ones for about 9 years. But the big one came last week, in the middle of a game of Chinese Checkers. Her memory was already not what it once was, and her partner, a little old lady friend in the assisted living home with her, had a memory that worked even less. The man who owns the home said they were fun to watch, when they played their daily games of Chinese Checkers. They would forget in the middle whose was which color, and whose turn was whose, until finally one or the other would declare them self the winner, and the game would be done.

And so another member of my family, a relic from my childhood, gone. I loved to go to their house, when I was a little girl. They had a daughter, a single child, my cousin whom I spoke with for over an hour this afternoon. She was a dear favorite of mine (still is) and of my brothers. They were one day apart in age, but she and I were both girls, in a family overloaded with boys. She had a love affair with horses during her childhood, collected horse figures, and had a shelf that ran all around the room about three feet from the ceiling where these horse figures resided. I thought she was completely cool. We still seem to have tons to talk about.

She lives in California -- they all did. But her work occasionally brings her to Texas. It did so a few years ago, right after my divorce was final. She spent a weekend with me. We talked for hours, never really got it all said. Strange how that works with some people. The local Czech festival was going on when she was here and we went to it, meet some cousins we really didn't know, distant cousins, maybe only half cousins. They were instantly like old friends. We ate Czech food, listened to Czech music, talked about our granny, who was Czech. My cousin knew Granny a little, was about 7 when she died. Whereas I was only a baby and have zero memories, but I inherited her eyes. My cousin also has those same eyes, and our hair is the same color as well. People at the Festival that day thought we were sisters.

I hate that all the people I grew up knowing are dying. But I think of how my dad must be feeling right now, just before 10 o'clock. He's the last of his immediate family. How lonely that must be.

Onward ....

A Rough Week & Sweet Moments

It's been a rough week with the cat. He has his good moments, those that give hope. He was doing so well at the beginning of the week that we were even planning how we would take him with us when we go back to the mountains in June. Now, on Thursday, we see that the likelihood of him still being alive then is slim.

Last night was a particularly difficult one. I may have slept three hours. There was a big storm, with heat lightning but not much rain, and it seemed somehow portentous. I didn't even know if the cat would be with me in the morning. He seemed so agitated, restless, a fire in his eyes. He really didn't sleep well with me there beside him, and I have decided not to do that again. He doesn't want much affection, but still enjoys outside and being in the same room with the rest of us. He seems disoriented, and often even a little goofy. My SO talked to the vet this morning and she explained that his kidneys are not processing the toxins and that's what is causing the behavior changes and poor appetite. I think after the long weekend is over, we are going to be faced with making that hard choice.

And WHY, you might ask, don't you just go ahead and have him put to sleep since it's inevitable and the whole ordeal is such an emotional strain? My answer is that he has been my good companion for 14 years and he deserves to live every minute that it is possible for him to live and be comfortable. He still enjoys going outside and watching the birds. And yesterday he jumped up and caught a grasshopper. Those moments keep me from putting him down just yet. As long as he is like this, I think he deserves his last days. However, he is obviously the center of our thoughts and decisions right now so I am unable to blog about much else. 


Yes, it is stressful, and even sad, but in a way, this time is a parting, too, a way of saying goodbye. My heart still breaks but not with the intensity of the first days. I can see now that when it appears to be too much for him, I will do what I have to do. I opened a Dove caramel this afternoon and the message inside was "Be Fearless." That also seemed like a foretelling. I will be with him when he takes his final breath. And we have already decided to have him cremated. I've been planning the people who will get all the accoutrement this cat has acquired through his years. Probably the homeless animal shelter can use the litter boxes and condos, the beds and bowls. There are many of all of these things. And they are spread among four different locations. This was a well-traveled cat. Just in the last year he has been to New Mexico, Colorado, and Arizona. Some people I know haven't gone that far or to that many places. He surprised me with how well he adapted. In the end, he mainly just cared about being with me, wherever I happened to be. And so I will be with him, as well, when he faces his final journey.


Onward ....

A Grave Diagnosis

Lymphoma. It is terminal.

LABOR DAY, 1997. My oldest son is home from Houston for the long weekend. His dad is on the sofa in the den sleeping off a few beers he had drank while we barbecued. It's almost dark. There had been a storm a week or so before, knocked quite a few limbs from the nine pecan trees in the yard. There was a pile of limbs where the greenhouse would one day stand. A soft mewl comes from the wood pile. My son and I both hear it. We go over to inspect. There's a big-eyed kitten on the far side of the pile. He's looking at me and mewling softly but insistently. I want to go for him but each time I try, he appears ready to bolt. I'm afraid that he's hurt. I get down on my hands and knees, calling, "C'mere. Please, c'mere" over and over. He continues to mewl. He looks tiny. He inches forward, slowly. Oh so slowly. It takes 45 minutes for him to inch within my reach but finally he does.


He is gray tabby, but only about half. The under half is pure white. His face is blazed symmetrically with white. Tabby-like, his eyes are golden, outlined with black and black streaks run from the corners of his eyes back along his cheeks. Gray ears, a long straight tail. He weighs maybe 2 pounds. I hold him close to my heart. His heart is pounding wildly in my palm. He doesn't seem to be hurt. I think he's probably just hungry. All I have is a can of white meat chicken, for humans not kittens. His fur is downy soft, silky. It will remain that way all of his life.

Kitten fur, even at age 14. He is my lovey-dovey. My cootie pie. My braveheart. My soulmate. He is my sweet boy, my lap cat, my loyal friend. We are spending our last days together. There will be a big empty hole in my life when he leaves me. The hole has already begun, but right now it's just mostly a hollow lump in my throat that I can't swallow.

His doctor is gone. She left just after she took the biopsies on his kidney and stomach. Another doctor called with the results. "This is a grave diagnosis," he said. The regular vet will be back Tuesday. I will phone her and discuss all of this further. For now, I just want to keep my kitty comfortable.

His belly is shaven, looks so vulnerable and tender now. His eyes are starting to droop. He responded well to the prednisone shot she gave him, caught a lizard the next day, something he hadn't done in at least five years. But that rebound is over, and he is thinner yet. I'm not sure I can take this, but it has to be endured, watching my kitty waste away. I am spending my days holding him, letting him rest in my arms, where he wants to be right now, trying to reassure him, trying not to just sit and cry. Hard but he has earned this time, this love, this vigilance. I can't shut the door on him at night so I'm already exhausted. We both are.

I won't have another cat. Not for a long long while. I've had two before this one but neither of those, not even combined times ten, can compare to the love I feel for this one. If anyone is reading this, please bear with me and my melodrama. A tragedy is happening right now. I feel compelled to write about it. I'm sorry.

Onward ....

Sick Kitty ... Again

Got back to our home in Texas on Tuesday night. I wasn't ready to come home but the kitty is sick. We don't know what is wrong with him this time, but I suspect he has developed diabetes. It started about a week ago while my SO was working up in Colorado. Kitty stopped eating. He seemed to be OK otherwise, just wouldn't eat at all. I went to the store to get different food, and he ate that with relish, once and no more. I thought maybe he was homesick so I took him outside. He enjoyed going out but it did not improve his appetite. If he was not outside, he was sleeping in the chair he has claimed as his. If he was outside on the deck he was sleeping. And finally just outside under the trees, he was sleeping. A hawk swooped down to check him out, and that was the last time I let him sleep beneath the trees. He already knew he was sick. It took me a little while longer.

So now we are home, and taking him to his vet this morning at 8:00. I've been with him all night. Slept upstairs in the loft room with him. He seemed to appreciate that, but at 4:15 I awoke and he was gone. There was a wet spot where he had been sleeping. I think he drooled. It neither looked nor smelled like anything else. I came downstairs and found him here, sleeping on my house slippers. I took him onto the couch with me for a while. He is as light as a feather. I think he's lost about three pounds. He doesn't seem to be suffering but he does act confused. The dog frightens him; it's usually the other way around. He doesn't recognize my SO, and doesn't want to play. When I hold him he seems to search my face and his eyes are kind of wild. It is breaking my heart to see him this way, lethargic and weak.

Fourteen isn't so old for a coddled kitty. My hopes are that this is something we can treat, something that won't compromise his quality of life too much. It was just over a year ago we successfully battled back toxoplasmosis. I'm praying that this will be something we can also defeat. But if it's not, I know that I will feel a deep loss and loneliness. I have loved this cat dearly for 14 years and he has loved me back. We are best friends. We have been through a lot together. He has always been there for me. I will never have another like him, another one as special. It will be hard. I'm trying to prepare myself but that isn't easy either. I have already shed a lot of tears. Yes, I admit it: I get too close to my animals. I can't help it. They give add such joy to m life.

Onward ....

Mountain Wind

We have been back at the cabin in the New Mexico mountains for a week. Every single day, except for last Saturday, has been windy. The people that live here full time say this has been an unusually windy year so far. And it's dry here -- even drier than back in Texas. Last summer, the first time we came to this valley, it was green and lush. The valley now has the barest bit of green grass, and that is because two days before we arrived, there was a 13-inch snowfall.

When a front is moving through, the wind is continuous and can get fierce. Two days ago, wind gusts were clocked at 60 mph. Most of it, though, seems to stay in the treetops. And the wind generally comes in waves. It's a phenomenon called mountain or local wind. The air coming from the prairie, or from the desert, depending on the direction it is moving, collides with the mountains, and the air coming behind the initial blast, puts on pressure on, creating an upward column of air or wind. The pressure is so great that it forces the air well past the peak of the mountains, into the upper atmosphere where it is flattened by colder air, and eventually collapses over the top of the mountain. This makes the rush of wind that we hear when we sit out on our deck. It starts in the treetops, a sort of roar of wind, until it blasts into our area of the valley. Blows like hell for a few minutes, then calms completely once again, until the next buildup of air collapses down over the mountain peaks. It's quite an interesting experience. Like waves of wind, and that's what we've started calling it -- wind waves.

If the oncoming air is off the prairie from the direction of Texas, then it's possible that the wind will only blow through the treetops, and will miss us down on the ground completely. If it's coming from the desert, from the direction of Santa Fe, it roars down the valley until it finds us, and rattles the trees, blows the bird feeders, and gongs the wind chime. I like the sound of these waves. And if I'm sitting inside, wind whistles down the chimney and through the flue.

Every time we come for a long stay, I love it here more and more. We are in paradise on Earth. Great neighbors. I really wish we could stay longer, and maybe next trip we will.

Onward ....