Another summer day

Today was another sunny day and Noah and I were on our own again. Today we walked over to the toy store and I got Noah some activity toys. A rattle made of wood with a bell and different shapes connected to it and a mock cell phone, which continues to start dialing and talking even though no one is pressing it. Then we walked up to a park and I spread out a blanket for us to seat on and we spent an hour or so there. I tried to entertain him and we did have some good laughs, but eventually he got tired of it and we left. We went for another walk and went by the store. He fell asleep and because I didn't want to wake him up I spread the blanket out on the lawn outside our balcony and read while he took his nap. I do try to keep busy and do things to make it special for him. I just hope I'm doing things right.

Today

Today we walked downtown, across the bridge over to Frösön and then along the shoreline all the way to beachfront on the south side of the island. Noah did pretty well in the stroller, even if the sun does bother him somewhat. I wasn't sure where we were going but isn't it more fun that way sometimes. We sat right in front of the water for a few minutes and Noah got to watch the water. There were a lot of boats out on the water and I imagined being on one. How peaceful it must be. We then hiked back the same way we came and went through the town again, which was crowded with people there for the festivities. It seems like everybody were in groups or in couples. We trodded our way across the crowded town square and walked all the way up to the café close to the woods where we often walk. I had to bring the stroller into the café when I got something to eat even though you're not supposed to because it's cramped in there, but I didn't want to leave Noah alone outside. I had an oat and nougat cake and sparkling lemon water and Noah had a fruit cup. We sat as much in the shade as possible. There was a chocolate brown poodle sitting tied to a tree next to us and I talked to him. Friendly little bugger. I was in no hurry to go home, but eventually we had to make our way home since Noah was getting tired and probably a little fed up sitting in the stroller. Now we're home. There is stuff to do even when you're on your own with a baby. It does feel empty somehow but I try to wave that aside and focus on just making something of the day. Oddly enough I'm not really tired even though we walked so far. We'll see what we get up to tomorrow. The aim is simply to get through the day and try to make the most of it.

Summer

Barbeques, beaches, picnics, outdoor parties, travel, even gliding on the water in a boat if you're lucky. Yes, for many people summer is the best season. I agree. These things are some of the best things one can experience. The water is fabulous, whether it's just a small lake or an extraordinary ocean. Some of the best times of my life have been spent on or around the ocean. I have to admit though, I have never been on a boat in my life, unless you count an estuary or a large ferry. Oh wait, there was this one time when I was 18 and went on a boat ride on my friend's boat. This was on the local lake. Anyway, all these things are great and it's easy to see why summer is so popular. However, if these things are absent from your life, for whatever reason, summer just becomes one long black hole where your days are spent lamenting times that have passed. I didn't expect this summer to be very extraordinary, because I knew that Nick would be working most of the time and that my parents would spend most of their time at the cottage and Noah and I would be left to our own vices. I actually didn't expect it to be this bad. I must say I'm surprised. As always, friends seem to be disappear during the summer, off on their vacations or just plain busy. I honestly didn't expect to see much of them this summer. Admittedly, I didn't expect my social calendar to be this empty, but oh well. I can deal with that, I have before and will again. It's been a long time since I stopped expecting anything. Placing your happiness in other people's hands is futile and will never make you happy. All I ask for is peace of mind. As things would have it, this was also too much to ask for. Last week we attended my grandmother's funeral. This hit me pretty hard since I hadn't seen her in a few years and we were planning to go down and visit her with Noah this summer. We never made it and so Noah and his great grandmother never got to meet. It's ironic that the family gathering that I had been wishing for for so long ended up being for her funeral. I made sure to take a lot of pictures, especially with Noah and his relatives, so that we can at least have those pictures to show him once he's older and let him know that he does have family out there other than just us. I know we remaining family members are never going to see each other anymore. When the last remaining grandparent dies it's as if the rest of the family don't have any reason to get together anymore and there are no more family dinners or occasions and all holidays are spent among just the immediate families. So this summer has been a bit of a downer, you could say. Noah and I have walked the streets and paths of the surrounding areas during those days where it hasn't rained, and a few times I have brought along picnic fixings and we've sat on the grass. Since Noah can't sit up on his own yet he quickly tires of just sitting on the grass since he can't really play yet. But I do try to make it fun for him, even if it's just the two of us. I'm really all that he needs at the moment I suppose. There will come a time though when he will start to crave more companionship and more action, and I'm afraid I alone won't suffice. I know from experience what it's like to be a child and feel lonely and excluded, and I want to make sure he doesn't feel like this when he's growing up. Of course, Facebook doesn't help things with all the status updates about vacations and parties and barbeques. I feel like I'm on the outside looking in. For some odd reason, I thought it would be different when you had children. That somehow magically, you would suddenly become part of some club. Not so. Deep down I really do love summer. I always have. It's just that because it never lives up to my expectations, or as the case is these days: just my feeble wishes, it ends up being a source of sadness and feelings of isolation. I even start to doubt my own existence. When you barely see anyone for days and only speak a few words per day you start to have some really odd thoughts. Like, if I'm not seen, do I really exist? Of course I know we do exist, seen or not, but when you're more or less cut off from the outside world you start to have moments of doubt. At this point I have given up on summer and am now anticipating autumn. I hope that it will be a good one.

I don't care

Morning thought. About celebrities, I don't care about their personal life since it's none of my business. I really like Sally Field but that doesn't mean I have to know what she does in her personal life. Obsessing about the lives of others, particularly total strangers, is a sign that there's something lacking in one's own life.

Seeking peace of mind

I haven't felt at peace in...well I never have. There was a time though when I did feel more at ease, and more comfortable with myself. I was only 18-19 years old then and hadn't really lived and I know I can't ever go back to that time, and those days had their own set of problems so I don't think I'd want to anyway. There is something to be said for being young and naive and a social recluse. Even though it's lonely it is at least somewhat peaceful to live in your own little fantasy world. I've been longing to get back to that lately. A comfortable place where I can focus only on writing fiction and where I don't give a crap about if my writing is good or not because I am just writing for the fun sheer fun of it. I deactivated my Facebook account yesterday. I just wasn't enjoying it anymore. I just got tired of reading about the same things every day and feeling that my own life is inadequate in comparison to other people's, even though I know that statuses are embellished and often don't reflect the truth. I also didn't like how I wasn't able to express myself freely and say what was really on my mind because my real thoughts wouldn't be acceptable. There is always the pressure that everything has to be so "normal" and cheerful and life affirming. Every time my status was less than life affirming and positive I always felt judged, that people were sitting there going "She's such a whiner!" or "She's such a weirdo!". It's not okay to be down for no specific reason. I don't want or need to know all the mundane, every day activities that people get up to, like have a cup of coffee for example. When everything is always the same day after day it just kills me. I also don't another way to feel unpopular, ignored or disliked. It's like how it is with cell phones. When you don't have a cell phone you can't be reached everywhere and you can at least fool yourself into thinking that the reason people aren't calling you is because they can't get a hold of you. But with cell phones and Facebook and email the truth stares you right in the face. There are no excuses for not getting in touch because with so many choices of communication you can't escape the fact that people aren't getting in touch with you because they don't want to. Well, given what I just said this next bit is going to sound like I'm contradicting myself, but I feel a certain kind of peace when I'm not contacted by people. People actually drive me crazy. I don't like people. I like animals. If there was a Facebook for dogs and cats I'd be there instead, naturally I wouldn't really quality for it but if I could fake my way in somehow I would. I have found that in order to achieve some sort of inner peace it's necessary for me to withdraw a little from the outside world. Not completely of course, I can't very well do that now that I'm a mother. I don't want my son to dislike people too. I don't want him to be like me. I want him to be happy and well adjusted and a people person. However, my spending too much time on Facebook is hardly the way to achieve that for him, rather it will have the opposite effect since it took precious time away from him. Although I do miss Facebook, it's more like the missing is a sort of compulsion or an impulse. Like missing your usual morning line of cocaine. I will probably return to Facebook in time but for now I am taking a much needed vacation from it. I have to say that I was happier before I even heard of it, and hopefully I can get back to that now. There is a lot to be said for being a recluse.

Almost 3 weeks now

Kelly has been gone for almost 3 weeks now, and the grieving has turned from desperate to a hollow ache for her. Sometimes it almost feels as though she was a dream. Like she wasn't even here at all. I thought I was over the worst, but this second stage of the grieving process is almost worse. The more time that passes the more remote she seems and at times it's almost unbearable. We got her ashes back. She now sits in an urn on top of our bookshelf. Some of her will be spread at the cottage where she loved to be so much while she was still alive. One of her sticks was cremated with her, so that she'd have something to play with in the great beyond. Although I bet at Rainbow Bridge she'll have all the sticks she'll need. Her blanket still smells like her. I handle it very carefully because I'm so scared that it'll stop smelling of her. I've developed this desperate need to be around dogs. I crave dog! Life is just not the same without a dog around. Animals, but especially dogs, make life a whole better. Right now we have no animals around, and it sucks. I stare at dogs when I pass them on the street. Their owners must think I'm psychotic. I turn around and stare, while trying to act casual. If it's a German Shepherd it's a sadness mixed with joy. I wish she was here right now. If she was, I'd hug her and press my face against the side of her head again. Smell her. We gave her food and her treats away the other day. It was worse than I thought it would be. It felt sort of like a betrayal. Removing her beloved treats from their usual spot in the pantry was especially hard. I know it's good that another dog gets to enjoy them, but it still feels odd. She always used to go to the pantry and sit down in front of it and stare at it, and then she'd glance at you, and then back at the pantry. Her way of saying that she wanted a treat. I know nobody can live forever. She was bound to leave us sooner or later, but the absence of her is at times almost too much. I wish I could hear her, or feel her, like some dog owners say that did the weeks after their dog had died, but I hear nothing and feel nothing. I wish I could, but I don't.

Grieving our dog

Kelly, our beloved German Shepherd, passed away last week.
She was 11 years and almost 2 months.
She had been sick lately, from some kind of growth in her abdomen, but apart from that and her failing eyesight due to cataracts she was doing well. She still had zest for life and a healthy appetite for food.
I secretly felt guilty for not putting her down, but it just felt wrong to do it when she was still herself, just not as spry as before. The not being spry part is to be expected from a mature lady of her age.
Then one day last week she got up and wasn't herself. She was listless and didn't want to eat, and later on started bleeding. At first we thought, or rather hoped, that she started her heat unusually early, but I the moment I saw the first drop of blood on the floor and put that together with her behaviour I knew what was up.
I felt this chilling sensation creeping up my neck, because I knew that this was it.
That same night, we had to take her in to animal hospital to have her euthanized. Her bleeding started increasing and increasing, until we realized she might not even make it through the night.
The dreaded decision was here.
I wasn't even able to be there with her. Our 4-month old baby was asleep and my parents were out of town so we didn't have anyone to stay with him. My spouse walked her over to the hospital himself.
I said goodbye to her, almost frantically, wanting it to be over with quickly. No matter how many hugs and kisses I gave her it would never be enough so I just wanted this terribly painful moment to be over with.
I wonder if she knew what was going on. She might have been too busy trying to lick up her own blood from the floor. In all this, her main concern was cleaning up after herself.
They left. I watched through the window as they walked off. I saw her walk off towards the area where she used to play and do her business. I saw this for the last time.
Hours later, Nick came back, alone. He had Kelly's collar and leash with him. He also had the red bandana she always wore.
They weren't worn by her anymore. They were empty.
For some reason that's one of the saddest aspects of putting your pet down.
You leave your house with a living pet and return with an empty collar and leash.
The bandana still has her smell on it. Her soft fur.


From the moment she came to live with us and up until the day she passed I never stopped fearing the day she would have to leave us. I knew it would be horrible, and reality did not fall short of my fears.
Anyone who has lost a beloved pet knows how hard it is. It's inhuman. I wonder if this kind of pain is even worth having a dog.
I can still smell her on her blanket where she used to sleep on the bed at night. It's covered in her fur because she had started shedding shortly before she died.
We used to go to bed together at night. When I would take off the bedspread and lift the cover to get into bed she would hear it and take the sound to mean that it was time to go to bed, and I would hear her get up and hear her footsteps approaching. Then she'd appear in the doorway and make her way over to the bed and climb on and settle down next to me, after doing a few circles of course to make sure she was in the right spot.
I won't wash her blanket because I want to keep the smell of her as long as possible. We had to wash her pet bed because it had blood on it.
It makes me sad to think that the smell of her will decrease in intensity and then one day will disappear all together, as though she never existed.
When she had laid down next to me I would reach out and put my hand on her and stroke her or pat her. Feel her warm body, her soft fur underneath my hand. Sometimes I'd kiss her goodnight and press my face against the side of her head, just underneath her ear, where her fur was softer than on any other part of her body. I'd take a good whiff and soak up her special smell.
Then we would sleep side by side.
Evenings are the hardest, probably because of our nightly ritual, but probably also because things slow down and you have more time to think.
I glance over at the spot where she used to sleep, which is now empty.
You hear of some pet owner who have felt the animal's presence after they have passed away. The sound of their paws on the floor. The warm sensation of the animal rubbing up against their leg.
I thought if I left her favourite ball and her rubber ring on the floor, she might appear. I must admit that I even threw the ball at her at one time, just in case she'd be there to fetch it. She loved doing that.
I keep wondering where she is now, and if she's forgiven me for not being with her at that moment when she passed away.
I wonder if she's happy now, if she's at Rainbow Bridge waiting for us.
If she is there, I can guarantee that she's the dog that plays the hardest and the wildest, and she'll try to be leader of the pack.
See you later Kelly. I love you.