1000 days

George is so very far away now.

1000 days.

It doesn't seem entirely possible. Our son has been gone for 1000 days.

I wake every day aware of the wrongness of our life. How, how did this happen? How can we be without him? How is it that we are still childless? How can this happen? I know there are no answers; not then or now or in the future but knowing that doesn't stop the questions forming in my head. How? Why?

Today we will travel 75 miles to see a classic car show. George would have ridden on his daddy's shoulders excited to see the special cars, wriggling to get down and get close. He couldn't help but share Ray's love of cars and he would be able to name them with his daddy. We would have a lovely but tiring day with tears and giggles and George would fall asleep on the way home and his daddy would carry him to his bed.

Think of us today will you? Just for a moment. Send us some wishes and a little magic if you can.

And send some love to George too? In that parallel universe where he lives his real life.

There's always something.

Our itteh bitteh kitteh Lyx had to have 6 teeth taken out on monday. She's only 2 and she may well loose the rest of them at some point. She has terrible gum disease and there's a possibility that the cause of it is much worse even though she seems healthy.

She spent most of monday afternoon in a drugged wobbly haze, snapping out of it briefly to chomp down some soft chicken before returning to the land of the fairies. By the end of the evening she was happily clawing her way along the sofa. She's been eating well since and is now desperate to get out into the garden but we're keeping her in for a few days.

She's getting over it much quicker than I am.

I feel terribly terribly guilty. I should have known it was this bad. I should have noticed. And then the thought pops into my head, well if you can't even keep a kitteh healthy...

I remember my Mum making a comment along the lines that the kitteh's were my babies now and thinking oh no, no, no, no. Our kittehs are not substitute children; they are pets and George and Little Poppet are irreplaceable. But they are part of our little family, have been and continue to be marvellous therapy and it hurts me to the point of tears to see one of them suffering.

I just feel like screaming.

Enough.

Five good things

Finding the joy of reading again. It's been a while.

Some idiot not looking where he was going, not indicating and driving into our car as we passed where he was parked. The good bit? Nobody was hurt and the car only suffered a ('nother) minor scratch.

Some idiot smashing the drivers side mirror as he pulled out in front of us to pass a pedestrian and then almost missed us as he swerved back in. The good bit? He didn't hit us head on and we only need to spend £12 on a replacement glass, not £50 on a new unit.

The (often fleeting) ability to find the good when circumstances conspire to make the bad shine brightest.

Four years and three days with my Poppet (7/7/07).



Please join in: what good things found you last week?

Five good things

Not falling apart, at least not completely, on the anniversary of losing Little Poppet. Not that falling apart would have been bad per se, but I'm quite glad I didn't.

My Mum receiving a carers grant to join a health club (in the hotel next door to her) and us swimming in a nearly empty indoor pool, relaxing in the jacuzzi, having the sauna to myself and a nice lunch afterwards while my Dad is taken out by a very lovely volunteer to play snooker.

Tea for two in the sun by the sea.

Loads of ebooks on my mac waiting (or not waiting - read 4 since last Sunday) for my new ereader when I can buy one because I have decided that I really really neeeed one.

Vas.eli.ne and app.le ci.der vin.egar: A dab of the former on the paw cures fur balls and stops kittehs who throw up their dinner immediately after eating it.  And the latter mixed with water cures rusty tears from the other kitteh who stains the bed.



Please join in: what good things found you last week?