My Novels

Sunday, December 29, 2019

Year End Thoughts (2019)

It seems I never have good years -- but then again, what else is new? I have always thought my life was cursed with bad timing and bad luck. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or being in the right place at the wrong time. This past two decades proved that true, in spades!

I won't detail all the ups and (mostly) downs, but rereading this blog would bear out that truth.

This past year I lost my beloved dog, Rambo. He was 14, and had been with me ever since I adopted him three months after my late husband died. He was extremely protective, and I always felt safe with him in the house. So in addition to just missing him, and the emotional loss, I also had a creeping sense of uneasiness without his protective presence. I do have another small dog, Muffin, who is now 7 years old. That is my only pet now, and not sure I'll ever have another.

This past year:
I lost Rambo

One of the stray cats I feed had kittens, and I took her in; found homes for the 5 kittens, but had to take mom cat to animal shelter. Which was devastating, but I realized during their care I could no longer run up and down the steps on the sunporch where I kept cats. And couldn't lug huge, heavy bags of cat litter, as well as the waste, associated with caring for cats. For someone who always had at least FIVE cats, that was a sad realization. And I cannot become a hoarder who is unable to provide adequate care for pets.

My bunion is getting worse, and causing increasing trouble with walking comfortably. Yet I have no idea how I could manage the care required after that kind of surgery.

I had two trips to the ER, due to mainly overindulgence -- as well as UTIs.

I haven't written anything, no stories, only an occasional poem, and basically just vegetate during the afternoons. Not good. Worse, have allowed myself to get caught up in the political circus, worried about the future.

On the positive side:
I continue to use my exercise bike daily, and haven't had any major health issues

No bad storms that caused any property damage (like the previous year when a hail storm required a new roof and repairs)

And Muffin seems to be in good health (though I do have to get her teeth cleaned soon)

New Year's Resolutions:
Not sure I have any, except maybe try to start writing again. ANYTHING. Even at this blog or in a handwritten journal. Not optimistic. I seem to have lost the motivation and drive to bother with it, though of course I do have ideas. And a post-apocalypse novel almost finished that I can't mange to conclude and publish.

I AM considering looking at senior apartments, determining if I can afford to move. So very tired of taking care of this house, it's costly and a never-ending problem. Maintenance, yard care, etc are aggravating. Will be checking into those apartments the first week of January.

And I might be able to get the bunion removed, but that depends on what kind of home care I can afford.

Otherwise? I feel like I'm spiraling down into apathy, and stuck in my own seclusion. Not that being alone is always bad, just that I spend 90% of my time isolated. Being an introvert, that is not a horrible fate, and certainly, I can't deal with people a majority of the time...but an occasional interaction is necessary. However, I am no different to many other seniors that find themselves in similar situations.

And on that note, that's it for now.

Friday, November 08, 2019

That time of year again

And so it begins as it has for almost fourteen years: the season of slow descent into remembrance and grief due to loss of my late husband. Yesterday as I sat watching the leaves fall, I wrote this poem:


It's so still
You could hear
The breath of a whisper.

Not a leaf stirring
Before the storm;
No sound, no wind:
Fall, a hush of
Silence before the cries.

You left in winter
But that fall was promise
All hope & fulfilled prayers.

Now, every autumn the silence
Reminds me of your voice
Never to speak again;
   Quiet, the tears,
The years since you've gone.

Year after year. Grief revisited, a loved one never forgotten.

Friday, July 12, 2019

Strange dream visitation

Looks like I only record dreams at the blog of late!

Rereading the previous disturbing dream about late husband, I realized that it was approximately a month after that when I noticed my dog, Rambo, showing signs of illness. With treatment for liver disease, he lived until a month ago, but still, it was devastating to lose him. I got him at the animal shelter three months after losing husband, and Rambo was my protector, my guard dog. He was fourteen years old. Miss him even now.

At any rate, last night I had a vivid dream about a late close friend, K.C. He and I corresponded for years; he'd had a detailed near-death experience, and I learned a lot about spirituality via him. In the dream last night, I received a letter from him, saying he was coming to visit. Then he met me at the library, where we sat and talked about his NDE, going over some of the more important aspects. I had a strong feeling that he was trying to either warn me of impending doom, or own death?

When he was preparing to leave, I put my hand on his arm and said, "Please don't go far."

"I won't," he stated, adding, "I'll be near if you need me."

I woke up this morning feeling like I'd actually been in his presence, though he died in 2000. Not exactly a comforting feeling, though I suppose his experiences of dying...were always comforting.

Who knows?

Just wanted to record this in my blog.