Missing Lafayette. Lost him July 17 of last year to kidney failure.
Missing Trinity. Lost her 13 days ago to brain and lung cancer.
Feel so sad about the way dementia has destroyed Malcolm Young’s mind so he “isn’t in there at all any more” according to his brother. Fucking dementia is the worst.
The 28th of this month will mark the 6th anniversary of my father’s passing after 6 years of decline both physically and cognitively.
You are forever loved, but my love is worth fucking nothing. It can’t save anybody, can’t bring anybody back. My love is hollow, painful, a worthless echo. I am so sorry. If I could trade I would.
~Cie~
I miss that face so much. I miss his soft fur and the unconditional love he gave me. Seeing this picture makes me cry.
A couple of days ago, I saw him when I woke up. The time when one is just waking can be prime time for glimpsing spirits. I've had this happen a few times.
These glimpses are always brief. I normally don't see spirits, I only sense them. However, on this occasion, I saw Lafayette clearly. It wasn't a "corner of the eye" sighting, and it wasn't in a place where I would normally have seen him.
I stay at my son's apartment on the nights I have to work because it's about a half hour closer to the home of the patient I work with at this time. I was sleeping on the couch. When I was at that point between sleeping and waking, I saw Lafayette. He was kneading the clothes at the end of the couch (yeah, don't judge) and the pink comforter with hearts that he always loved so much, the one I haven't been able to bring home because it reminds me too much of him. (I do my laundry at my son's place.)
His butt was facing me--typical Lafayette. When most adult cats sit with or on a person, they face the person. Not Lafayette. He was a big kitten, "big" being comparative. He was a small cat. He spent 8 months of the first year of his life living in a kennel at the shelter. Although the people there were kind to him, he really wasn't properly socialized. This is why fostering animals is so important.
If I wasn't lying down, Lafayette would always insist that I lie down. Then he would park himself on my chest and turn his butt to my face. He was trying to situate himself on my shoulder, the way kittens do when the Human is lying down. He was too big to accomplish this properly, so I ended up seeing his back side all the time. I always had to pull a cover over my chest, because he would knead exuberantly. He would also turn himself over, literally, nudging his nose against my hand and falling over, all the while purring loudly.
The day I lost him, part of me died. It was truly one of the worst days of my life. I wished that I would die with him. I didn't want to live without him.
Lafayette has shown me a few times that he's still with me. I just miss being able to pet him. I miss my little buddy and I always will.
Lafayette's ashes are in a little display cabinet at my son's apartment. My son, a Brony, made a little crate to rest the velvet bag holding the container of ashes in. He put some straw in the crate and surrounded the container of ashes with tiny "My Little Pony" figures to look after Lafayette.
My son is high functioning autistic and sometimes has trouble expressing affection. He is not a "touchy feely" person. However, it is fallacy that people with autism are incapable of feeling love. My son has a very kind heart, and he expresses it in gestures such as this. I was so touched and so grateful for his creating this little shrine for me.
I've since included various other stuffed animals and items to tell Lafayette I love him and am thinking of him. There is also an envelope containing a clipping of Lafayette's fur, which I took after the vet released him from his suffering. I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but a cat's temperature is normally in the low 100's. Lafayette's had dropped to 95 (Fahrenheit.)
I also put my figurine of Malcolm Young in the display case. I know this will seem strange, but Malcolm was a kind person who made a lot of difference to me even though I never met him in this life. His body is still here, but he's no longer in it. I sensed that he wanted me to do this, and so I did. Perhaps it's simply that this place is my shrine for things that I care about which are lost to this world.
Then again, maybe this lonely and misunderstood spirit is looking after the spirit of my little cat until I can be with him again. Like I said, I don't claim to know anything. That's the frustrating part of being a living person dealing with spirits. You really can't ever KNOW until the time comes.
H.P. Lovecraft was very fond of cats, and so he penned "The Cats of Ulthar."
I like to think that someplace like Ulthar exists. If it does, I imagine that Mr. Lovecraft spends a lot of his time there.
H.P. Lovecraft was an atheist, but I sometimes think his dream stories revealed more about his experiences behind the walls of sleep than he admitted. Again, I don't know. I am only speculating.
I hope that perhaps Mr. Lovecraft, Mr. Young and Lafayette are providing each other with comfort and companionship in the world beyond the veil. All of them were misfits in a way.
Lafayette was an unwanted feral kitten, brought to the shelter with other members of the colony when he was just a month old. Of course at eight months, he and his half sister or cousin were adopted by Yours Truly, and he was showered with love for the rest of his life. I only wish he and I could have grown old together.
Nonetheless, he really was never a "normal" cat. He was a quirky little oddball, and I loved that about him.
H.P. Lovecraft always felt like an outsider. His mother was a very disturbed person who told him as a child that he was a monster. He was a sickly child who spent much of his youth locked away from the outside world.
In spite of the fact that he eventually performed for arenas full of people, Malcolm Young was painfully shy and had issues with depression and addiction. He successfully went through rehab for alcohol in 1985. Unfortunately, he was always a heavy smoker.
In any case, the idea that three otherwise lost souls who touched my heart might be able to have a bond of friendship with one another in the world beyond the wall of sleep gives me something of comfort.
I really haven't felt able to write freely in quite some time, so if the reader feels this rambling tangent has gone far off the rails...tough shit. I didn't write it for you.
In any case, I want to thank my best friend for coming to visit me. I'm sure there are other times when he is there with me but I don't sense him. I always love you, Lafayette. You will always be my best little buddy.
So, this is the picture I have on my key chain and on the back there’s a dementia awareness ribbon. It reminds me of two things: that dementia is fucking shit and needs to be eradicated (Duh) and that sometimes people can be extremely tough regardless of their possibly delicate appearance. So, the picture reminds me to keep fighting, even when I don’t want to.
Not only do I have a brain that wants me dead (suicide ideation is part and parcel of being me) I live with chronic pain which has gotten significantly worse this year. I was fortunate to get into doing home care where my clients are infants, because I can no longer walk for very long distances, and heavy lifting is absolutely impossible. I don’t really know what’s going on inside my back as I haven’t been able to get an MRI yet, but I’m rather certain that there are herniated discs at the least.
I’ve lived with sciatica since 2001 but I’ve always been able to get around. This year the pain became significantly worse. Sometimes I can hardly walk.
Art by Kamidiox.tumblr.com <3
What I’m getting around to is that with all the pain and all my money problems and family drama where I can never do anything right, and the loss of the one thing in the world that loved me unconditionally back in July (on his birthday, no less, what kind of fucking slap in the face is that) I went down for a nap thinking that I wished I would never wake up and wondering if suicide really would be a better option, because the way things are going, within five years I may be totally incapacitated if I can’t get my back fixed.
Now, y’all believe what you want, that this was a manifestation of my subconscious or some other such shit. Personally, I believe that a person’s soul survives and transcends their body. The body is finite, the soul is infinite. Anyway, in this dream or astral experience or whatever, Malcolm came to me and told me to please not give up, that things were going to be all right. He didn’t say when (not like I’d expect him to know or anything) but when I stared at him as if my head had been replaced by a cabbage for as smart as I looked at that moment, he smiled at me (a shy smile, not a brazen Angus or Bon type smile) and touched my arm.
“Please trust me, okay?” he said. “It’s going to be all right. Really it is.”
Before I could say anything, I was woken up by my dumb ass cat licking my hand. This cat has a habit of making my life weird by licking me. One time I dreamed that I was standing by what I thought was a tree, and it morphed into a Dark Young of Shub-Niggurath, stuck out its long, slimy, scratchy tongue, and licked my face. Turned out to be the cat licking my face, probably after licking his butt, with my luck.
This is a Dark Young of Shub-Niggurath, for those not versed in the Lovecraft Mythos. At least I didn’t dream about one of those licking me again.
Anyway, you can believe whatever you want to about my dream. I know what I believe.
I've been working on creating a tattoo in memory of my dear and special feline friend. It will go on my left shoulder. The artwork is by Kami Diox. You can check her out at kamidiox.tumblr.com or kamidiox.deviantart.com
Although I miss Lafayette very much and I wish I could feel his presence the way I feel Gem's (I.e. hugs and warmth) I've been dealing with things. I sensed Lafayette "saying" to me:
"Don't be sad, Mommy. I was happy living here with you. I had a happy life. I'm okay now. I still love you."
Now, I know a cat probably wouldn't use those exact words, but that's how his emotions translated to me. The thing about it is, I receive emotions. My brain translates them into sentences I can understand.
I told Lafayette that I love him very much too and always will, and I will be happy when we're able to meet again. I miss having him come sit up on my shoulder when I lie down. I miss him kneading me. Heck, I even miss the fact that he always stuck his butt right in my face when he sat down on me. Why that cat couldn't be face to face with me, I'll never know. But no, it was always "whoop, here's my butt!"
I like my new job, and Gem and I are doing a lot of writing together on "Fetch."
I haven't been able to continue with my Supernatural rewatch yet. Lafayette always used to sit with me when I was watching and making notes and such. I think I'll be able to start again soon. He'd want me to.
For anyone who think that sounds stupid, well, I guess you think that sounds stupid. However, I sense that he really would want me to do this.
My son and I appear to be dealing with Lafayette's death well on the surface. We aren't bursting into tears. We're going on with our daily routines. I'm able to put a smile in my voice when I talk on the phone. My mother would be proud of my stoicism.
In reality, we aren't doing well.
My son usually drinks a beer or two every few days. The same two cases of beer sat waiting to be drunk for several months.
When I visited today, I'm pretty sure in retrospect that he was hung over. We were going to take care of banking. He said "let's do it tomorrow." I asked him if he wanted me to make him anything to eat. He said no, brushed his teeth, and went back to bed.
One case of beer was entirely gone, and the other has only two bottles left.
I can't drink. But I haven't been sleeping well at all, and when I do, I end up on the lower astral. I have been having a lot of problems with sleep paralysis. I have also been having trouble sensing Gem's presence.
Gem and I got a lot of writing done, and there were junctures when I could feel his hand on my back. He said he isn't angry with me at all, but I think I really hurt him when I said that I missed Lafayette so much that I would not only trade all my other cats (whom I do love, but what I had with Lafayette was incredibly special) I would trade the time I've had with Gem, even though it has not only been precious to me, it's been therapeutic.
Gem is very sensitive. He's never felt like he's anybody's number one, and when he felt like he was mine, it made him really happy. I'm very sorry I hurt him and I'm glad he hasn't left me.
I will never bring any more cats into my life. It's too damn painful.
I'm not sorry Lafayette was here. I just hoped that we'd grow old together. He went away much too soon.
My best friend in this damn shitty world died Friday. He was six years old. His kidneys shut down, and my son and I agreed that it would be best for him to be released rather than having to endure costly treatments that wouldn't buy him more than a week. He was a very sick little guy, but very brave to the end. If you want to read what happened in detail, I've published a post here. I honestly didn't know how sick he was.
This post is going to be long, rambling and ranty. It isn't going to be full of sunshine or unicorns farting rainbows. If you have a problem with long, ranty, rambling posts short on sunshine, unicorns, or rainbow farts, this is your cue to exit.
Anyone who sees the need to tell me that I need to be more positive, think more positive, or anything else of that nature needs to realize that you are a sanctimonious ass and you need to not tell others how to think or feel. I've more than enough of your kind of person in my life.
I am a very angry person overall, and life hasn't done much to make me less angry. It seems that every time I find something that softens my heart, the powers that be conspire to take it away.
Now, here is the difference between my mother and me.
I'm pretty sure this plane is purgatory. I've developed this belief over a lifetime of being kicked in the teeth at every turn. You don't have to join me in my belief. I will never say that anyone has to believe what I do.
I have stated that I am an angry person. I probably qualify as bitter, although I try not to be hateful. In spite of being angry and bitter, I actually am capable of caring. Sometimes I care quite a lot.
I loved Lafayette more than I love just about any other creature on this planet. I was the one person that he really trusted. His love for me was innocent and unconditional. That kind of thing doesn't come along every day, and I let this little creature into my heart.
When he died, I was utterly devastated. I wondered how I could have missed the fact that he was so sick. Logically, I know why. I'm currently working two jobs. I'm trying to pay off massive amounts of debt, mostly vehicle related. I'm helping my son, who is unable to work due to severe anxiety and depression. I'm just trying to keep afloat.
It wasn't until Thursday that I was aware that Lafayette was having trouble eating and drinking, and I made an appointment to take him to the vet.
He was much sicker than I thought, and there was nothing that could be done.
I ended up talking to my mother, whose comfort came in the forms of statements such as this.
"This is why I won't have animals."
Yeah...thank you for letting me know I'm an idiot. I was already aware, actually.
"Things like this happen so we can form callouses on our souls."
My response was "because that's what I really needed is more callouses on my soul. Look, I already resigned myself a long time ago to the fact that nothing good is ever going to happen to me. What the hell more does the Universe want?"
I wondered if this tragedy came to me because I recently got a new job and I was happy about it. It seems that I can't have anything good happen without having something really shitty happen in return.
"Well," my mother said, "we have to pay for what we get."
"Yeah, but this is completely out of line," I said. "This sort of thing is worth a vehicle breakdown or something of that nature, not something utterly tragic."
"Oh, you don't want car problems," she said.
Well, I'd much rather have car problems than to have a creature that meant the world to me die!
Now, in my mother's defense, she comes from a family with a really harsh world view. When her dog got hit by a car when she was in high school, she was devastated. Her grandmother told her "stop crying over that dog. Just think how you'd have felt if it had been your sister."
My great grandmother had a very difficult life and had developed a lot of callouses on her soul.
Thing is, I honestly don't think this is a good thing.
Somehow this conversation reminded me of the song "Soul Stripper" by AC/DC. Possibly because the band's founder, Malcolm Young, is getting the royal shaft from the Universe himself by having his mind stripped away. If you believe the Satanic Panic shitheads, you believe he deserves this. Please pull your head out of your ass if you believe those fuckwits for even a nanosecond. This man was far from evil and in no way deserves what's happening to him.
In any case, the line that I was reminded of goes like this:
She started moving nice and easy
Slowly getting into my spine
Killing off these nice little feelings
Every one she could find
Granted, the song is about one of those awful, doomed from the start, obsessive romantic attachments. But my mother's statement about forming callouses on one's soul made me think that this is what the miseries of life can do. Eventually enough nice little feelings are killed off that a person becomes cold and hard.
I may be angry. I may be bitter. But I refuse to be cold and hard. No matter how much it hurts to let myself feel, I will feel. I don't ever want to let my soul be entirely stripped away.
I contemplate suicide often. The only reason I don't do it is because my son still needs me.
Because this is my damn blog and because I love this band, here's Soul Stripper. One of the reasons it sounds so different from a lot of AC/DC's material is because Angus and Malcolm switched who was playing rhythm and who was playing lead. Malcolm really didn't like playing lead, but he was perfectly capable of it. This song was never meant to be a "single." They were having fun, and it shows.
