Rough Day and a Complete Loss of Focus

The moments when I am able to bring myself to the point of caring about anything today, are the moments when I feel like my heart is being cleaved in two. Otherwise, I am mostly numb. I veer between the two as I try to accept the loss of my furry companion. I had a bit of a hard time pulling myself together in order to contact the guests for tomorrow night's show. (As producer of The Kovacs Perspective, I do audio and video tests on Skype to make sure the quality is there for broadcasting. We've had some issues with Skype in the last month, so hopefully by testing beforehand we'll be able to avoid some of that.) I had to do a call at 9 AM, and another at noon, and right before the calls I was busily bawling my head off. I'm sure I sounded like a frog, because I also still have my cold, but the way I look and sound right now is of little importance to me. I had a job to do, so I did it.

That's one thing I've always been good at. When something has to be done, when I have a responsibility, I make sure I do it. I used to do payroll for multiple companies, and to me that was a huge deal. People count on their paycheques, and I wasn't about to let anyone down. I went to the office to do payroll when I had pneumonia. One time I got a call while I was in the middle of doing payroll because my husband at the time was going to the ER with dangerously high blood sugar levels. I finished the payroll anyway. That might sound heartless when it comes to my marriage, and maybe it was, but it wasn't like I could actually do anything for him. His treatment didn't depend on me, but the people who worked for the company did depend on me for their wages. I was needed at the ER strictly for moral support. The decision actually wasn't as easy as I make it sound, though. You can be sure that payroll was done very quickly that day. Thankfully I didn't usually make mistakes. My boss was there to double-check the work, which is standard procedure anyway to avoid fraud within the company, and his boss was there to triple-check it before he signed off on the funds transfer to the payroll company.

I count myself lucky that I'm reading a book that I love, which is a very familiar book to me since I've read it at least a dozen times, so I'm able to distract myself a little bit today. It's called Northern Lights by Nora Roberts. Normally I don't read the stuff she writes under her own name, as I mainly read her In Death series that she writes under the name J. D. Robb, which is a series that takes place in the future and focuses on a cop name Eve Dallas. She's a major kick-ass heroine, and I enjoy the books tremendously. The book I'm reading now, though, I can connect with. It's about a cop (male this time) who moves to a fictional town called Lunacy, Alaska to be chief of police. He's recovering from the shooting-death of his partner, and suffering severe depression. What I love most about it, though, is the idea of living way up north, and the isolation that brings to mind. I've done a fair bit of research on the possibility of moving to Nunavut, but it doesn't seem feasible for me. There were lots of job opportunities back when I was concerned about that sort of thing, but there is very little real estate and housing available. You also have to fly in because there are no roads going in. At least there weren't the last time I looked into it.

I'm almost finished this read-through of the book, however, and I dread when that happens because I haven't been able to get into reading as much lately. Now I have to find something else that I can get into with as much interest. I was starting to re-read the Tess Gerritsen series about Jane Rizzoli, but as much as I love her writing I couldn't lose myself in The Surgeon, which starts the whole series. I might be able to now that I'm feeling brain-dead, though. Sadness and grief have completely curtailed my workaholic tendencies for the time-being. I'm still fulfilling my obligations, but I'm not adding to them right now. There's only so much I can handle. So, I'm doing a weekly article for +SearchWarp and a weekly one for +Feminspire, along with this blog, and then I have my duties as a producer. I've completely left off work on my novel as well as my erotic fiction. Before Stimpy died I was giving him constant care, hand-feeding him, giving him his medication, and even helping him go to the bathroom. I didn't have a lot of spare time. Now he's gone, and because I didn't begrudge the extra care for him in the least, I miss the time spent with him. It's not easy to allow myself to fill that time with work.

At the moment I'm back to feeling numb, as well as just wanting to curl up in bed and go to sleep, so I'm probably going to do just that. While I'm lying there, reading until sleep finally claims me, I'll allow the occasional interruption of my emotions. I'll imagine my angel-boy a dozen different ways. Some will make me smile, and others will have me in tears. Shortly after he died I deleted the alarms in my phone that I had set for giving him his medication. I knew I wouldn't handle it well if they went off. I threw out the syringes I've been using for feeding him and giving him his medication, and it's amazing how difficult that was for me. I will be keeping his squeaky bunny toy, though. Even the day before he died he rested his head on the bunny after adjusting it to where he thought it should be. He loved that thing, and I will keep it with his ashes once I get them back, as kind of a surrogate for him.

A portion of his ashes will be used in some sort of memorial item. There are many to choose from, including sun-catchers and necklaces. I don't care if it someone thinks it's morbid. It cheers me up to think of him always being with me in such a beautiful way. I'll be able to look at it any time I want, seeing something beautiful, and talk to him like he's still there. You can actually have your pet's ashes turned into a diamond, although it's very expensive. Last time I checked that was around $15,000. A bit beyond my budget at the moment. My ex suggested burying him in a nearby park, but since I don't intend to live out my life in Hamilton I don't want to do that. It's probably illegal to do that anyway, but if I really wanted to that wouldn't have stopped me.

I'm sure this has been a very depressing post to read, but I need to vent about this stuff right now. I probably sound like I'm doing okay if I can write like this, but I'm really not feeling okay. That's okay, though. I want to feel bad and miserable. I've lost something very precious to me, and nothing feels better to me right now than to mourn that loss. Grieving is a comfort. Crying connects me to him. My memories, painful as they might be, means I have not forgotten him and he will be forever imprinted on my mind. He was a huge blessing to me in so many ways. When it gets too painful I snuggle Pepper, my other ferret, and feel just a little bit better. Maybe it's not healthy, but sometimes, just for an instant, I let myself pretend he isn't gone, and that he's sleeping beside me on the bed as he used to do, snuggled inside his octopus toy. Since that's where he's slept for a long time now, it's not hard to imagine it.

It's been just over 24 hours since Stimpy died, so I'm cutting myself some slack and allowing myself to take a bit of time to mourn. It's going to hurt me for a really long time anyway, but the world has no patience for that kind of thing and I'll need to get back into the swing of things sooner than I might like, but for now...for now I will give this time to him. He deserves that and more.