will soon join our family. I’ve fallen in love with her already. She was five years old yesterday, retired by her breeder and will live in her forever after home with me. Her name is Audrey. I’ve bought her a new ortho comfy bed where she can curl up and dream happy dreams. My empty arms will soon be filled again.
Soon sweet Audrey will be on her way from Daisy Hill Poodles to my home. She’ll be 5 Monday. Younger than the ones I’ve lost. She’s gorgeous! And from what the breeder says–a very sweet girl. Hopefully, she’ll arrive next Friday. And then life will be good again. I still miss the little ones I’ve lost, and always will, but I also miss having a canine companion. And I’m ready now to welcome one into my home and into my heart. I pray I have what it takes to keep her well and happy for a long time. She’ll be my reason for getting up in the morning. I’m grateful to Linda for entrusting me with another of her sweet babies.
I fell apart after Betsy died and can’t seem to recover. Have episodes of increased BP, nausea, blurred vision, ringing ears, passing out. I’m anxious and depressed. Don’t know if it’s stress or something else. I’ve had these symptoms from time to time, but it’s more often now, and more severe. It’s getting harder to hold on to a positive outlook. In the past three days, I’ve been to the ER and seen three doctors.
I’m living the days I’ve dreaded for a long time. I’m old. I don’t like it, but I’m old, alone and lonely. I’d love to have another furry companion but I’m afraid to get one. Will I be able to care for her/him? Would it be fair to the animal? So I go through the rooms my precious ones have filled and the rooms are so empty!
A nurse from St. John’s Home Health Care was here today interviewing me. Can they help? I hope so. My spirit has been broken before. I hope I can heal it once again.
It would be wonderful to have just one person in the world you know cares what happens to you. Seems to be a necessary requisite for survival. I’ve always known why old souls in convalescent homes just shrivel up and die.
Enough said. Tonight, I pray for the strength and courage to heal myself.
arched & rising
from the floor
to rest a chin
or lay a head
to cradle & comfort
(c) Mary Harrison, 8-4-12
It’s been rough. Today, all day, I did nothing. I felt physically and mentally ill.
Muffy was put to sleep about a month ago in the ER. She was dying of cancer of the liver; Betsy died Wednesday morning at home. It all happened so fast. She seemed okay. Then she became ill and died. Her ashes were delivered today.
And today is the anniversary of my son Scott’s suicide. I always dread August. The day Scott killed himself, we were having a heat wave. And now, again.
There’s always such guilt involved when a loved one, so close, dies. What were the signs it was going to happen? Why didn’t I see? What could I have done to save my son? My baby girls? Was I inattentive, negligent in some way? The questions haunt you, disturb/prevent sleep, tie your stomach in a knot so that you can’t eat.
Karen came with gifts, as usual. She’s here visiting her mother; always comes by when she’s here. Today she brought a cinnamon roll from the bakery on National and some lovely tomatoes,cucumbers and watermelon from a fruit stand. I took a few bites of the cinnamon roll, had a tomato for supper.
My heart is breaking. My mind isn’t really working. I’ll tell the stories of Muffy, Betsy and Scott another time. Just wanted to mention them on this day.