A Brief Moment of Sad Reflection

I realize I haven't blogged lately about the project, but I'd like to take tonight and make a post about the significance of today for something else.

Just about a year ago today, I lost someone very, very close to me. Next to my parent's divorce ordeal, this was the hardest thing I've ever had to go through. A year ago today, I lost my cat of almost 10 years, Furby. Now, some of you may skoff and see it as pathetic, but hopefully most of you can relate in some way, shape, or form.

I spent most of the day losing myself in the UN project and those around me, and it was a great comfort, especially after seeing the significant change the Sabido Method can create for the better (more on this at a later date, probably tomorrow). Hopefully it will do the same with our game.

But, you can only avoid a subject for so long, and I tried block of a little bit of time tonight to allow myself to reflect and grieve alone. I actually surprised myself when I finally let myself just go, to cry and grieve--I didn't realize that I still hurt this much a year later.

Now, before you write me off as a total sap, Ive lost pets before. And, although it was tough and I missed them greatly, I've never grieved for one as much as I have Furby. She was something truly special to me.

I remember when I first got her. It was just about 11 years ago or so, right around 5th or 6th grade. My mother's cat, the one I'd grown up with since I was born, was ill and had to be put down. It was the first time I'd ever had to put an animal to sleep, and I was crying so hard they wouldn't even let me in the room. I remember sitting in the car and bawling my eyes out, not sure how life was going to be the same again.Soon, the vet emerged from the office carrying our cat carrier, which in turn only made me cry harder knowing the deed was done. He came around to the side where I was sitting and opened the door, and told me to look inside. I was almost afraid of what I was going to see...he opened the door of the carrier and there in the back, curled in the corner, was this tiny, shivering kitten, simply a grey ball of puff staring back at me with her blue eyes. It was the first time I'd ever hurt and loved so much at the same time. I reached in and carefully scooped her up in my hands, took her out, and just held her close to me, never wanting to let her go.

As dumb as it sounds, it was the first taste of motherhood I'd ever had. She was mine. She relied on me, she needed me. I fed her, looked after her, loved her more than anyone else did. I taught her to come to my call, and called her in from outside every night. I was the one she looked to every night to snuggle with, and when she needed something, she looked to me. In her later years, I was the one that held her when she was sick, carefully feeding her water and food when she wouldn't eat or drink and reassured her she'd be okay.

But most of all, she was this incredible positive energy in my life when I needed it the most. The 7 years of my parents divorce was probably the darkest time in my life. But no matter what was thrown my way, she was there. She was the one I looked to for comfort when I moved away with my dad from my brother and mother. She was my little piece of stability during an unstable time. She was the one I clung to and cried to when I thought I didn't have the strength to go on. And strangely enough, she always knew when something was wrong. She came running. She forced herself into my arms and refused to move until she knew things were okay. When I was sick she would spend days by my side until I was better. We just had this indescribable connection; we looked out for each other when nobody else did.

There were many days when I would come home thinking the world had forgotten about me, only to realize that to this cat, I was her world. Little did she know, she was mine, too.

God, I can only imagine how all of this sounds. But for someone who's sole purpose in life is to be a mom, this was the closest I could come until I was ready to actually have a family.

And then one day, she was gone. She didn't come home. She didn't come running from the fields when I called her that night. It was one of the few nights I slept alone without her. The next morning she wasn't sitting there, perched on the windowsill absorbing the morning sun. Her food and water were untouched. For days, it continued. The house was silent. For nights, I was left bear armed and broken hearted. This was my baby, the grey ball of puff I'd held in my arms for 1o years. Just like that, she was gone.

And that's the way it's been for a year now--just...gone.

Although there isn't an official date for her death, I remember today specifically because it was the first time I'd let myself completely go, let myself finally grieve her loss. I'd spent the weeks before praying for her return, praying for her safety. But today, I accepted it and just sobbed, harder than I ever had before. I also remember the incredible amount of anger I harbored, at life, at God, at everything around me. I looked back over older journal entries today, and I remembered writing this particular one:

"Stare me down, let's settle this now. But know, you're in for a fight if it takes every last breath of me. As much as I am stricken with overwhelming grief, I am filled with equal hatred for you. You are doing nothing but pouring salt in the wounds that you have inflicted. Right now my baby is somewhere, left mangled and alone by your creatures. Instead of allowing me to give her comfort, you take her from me. And now, her helpless remains deteriorate in the rain you pelt down on us.

...You took away my baby. Swept her away, taking every last piece of broken happiness I had when she was nothing but an innocent life. You had no right. You may be god, but you're not my god. My god would not bear to remove the only crutch a person pawing at despair could have....

...I will stand here strong, and mock your best efforts to regain control. You've lost it all- control, power, respect with the despicable acts that you've committed. I will watch you perform your best show, throw your best attempts at ensuing fear in me, but never blink an eye. You will not intimidate me.... ...The motherly instincts are waging an writhing war inside of me, screaming in agony at the inability to hold my baby and keep her warm and safe, protect her with all that I've got. It's your fault. Everyhing. I blame it all on you. Let it be known, here and now, an official declaration of my eternal feelings for you: I HATE YOU.I DESPISE YOU. I LOATHE YOU. I will not back down. Not now, not ever. I will never forgive, I will never forget."

I've never been terribly religious, but I lashed out at God that night. It was the first time I'd ever felt complete and utter loathing for him; after all that he had put me through, this had to happen on top of it all. It scared me, to be honest. I wanted to scream until my lungs shriveled up. I wanted to cry until my heart exploded. I wanted to grieve until I was numb of all emotion.

A year later the pain is still there, but the hatred's subsided. Strangely enough, I'm still a strong believer in the theory that everything happens for a reason--this happened for a reason. It doesn't mean it still doesn't hurt, though. I still miss her terribly. But, part of me wonders how she would have held up while I spent more and more time away from home at school, or how she would have fared this summer without me there. My heart breaks to say it, but it happened for a reason.

So, tonight I've spent some time looking back over my life and hers, reminiscing aand remembering the love that we shared. It's also made me realize that while I felt like my life was over at that point, that there was nothing left for me--I'm still here. I'm still living my life. I'm stronger emotionally, mentally. It's taught me that the heart is virtually indestructible... it can be completely broken and still function. You can nurse it back to health. No, it will never heal completely. But you can pick up the pieces and continue to move on if you have enough will to keep going.

And as hard as it is sometimes, I think everything happens for a reason. The hard part is being able to look back at a situation like that and discover the reasons why.

This just gives me hope for the future. After all I've overcome, I'm still here. There were many days when I didn't think I would be, I didn't think I would have the strength to get out of bed the next day. But somehow, every day I did--every damn time. You have to dig down deep and find the things, people, places, memories that inspire you, that keep you focused and moving. And even if they're taken away from you, they're never gone forever; they're deep inside your heart. Find those and you've got all you need to keep you going no matter what comes your way.

"Love is not written on paper, for paper can be erased. Nor is it etched on stone, for stone can be broken. But it is inscribed on a heart and there it shall remain forever."
--Unknown

I'm not asking for your sympathy. I'm not asking you to understand. It may mean nothing to you, it may mean everything--I don't know. I'm simply mourning a loss in my own little way. I know there are so many important, positive things to write about right now, and tomorrow we'll pick up right where things left off. But tonight, this is important and very personal to me. Tonight is dedicated to this.

Tonight, I grieve your loss. Tomorrow I use your memory and love to begin again.