On New Year's Eve

In a few hours it will be a new year.

More than a year has passed since I let go of Vixen. This year, I had to let go of Five. The year about to end has been forgettable and painful and empty. Every day, and I mean every day, I sought those two hours or so of drink, of being unknown, of beer and scotch, and strangers surrounding me. Home was painful. I had no more Vixen, no more Almond, no more Boobie. Home reminded me, and continues to remind me, of my loss.

The year 2012 will soon be history. The pain of life will go on.

More than a year after Vixen died there is still that pain of going to bed, knowing I'll awake without my baby around. Waking up brings that same emptiness.

This holiday season, I often remembered Christmas and New Year of a year ago, that unbelievably painful feeling of loss and emptiness when Vixen was gone, how slow and painful the days were, how often I broke down away from my family's eyes. Christmas died then, and the new year brings no hope.

And yet I hold memories these final moments of 2012. Of Boobie and Almond and Vixen, those happy years with them. Even when I lost one, and then two, life was still bearable because at least one was around. It all ended when I lost Vixen, when I had to let her go.

This is life now. Fuck the new year.

Remembering Garpy (Dec. 29, 1982-Aug. 10, 1991), born 30 years ago today

Happy birthday, my dearest Garpy.

You came to me in a time of grief. You were a comfort during those dark, tumultuous years. And just like that, you left when life was beginning to smile.

Thank you so much for being there.

As I wrote at the back of one photograph of you, taking from the wisdom and talent of a famous author:

"Farewell, dear darling of my soul. A parting blessing on my love. We shall meet again, where the weary are at rest" (Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities).

I love you, my Garpy. You are in my heart always .

Remembering my lovely Vixen, Sept. 1, 1998-Dec. 20, 2011, on her first death anniversary

My dearest Vixen,

A year has passed since I let you go. So many times I've wondered if I made the right decision. I shall live with that torment always. The decision I made, right or wrong, I made with love. All the days and weeks and years that we were together, all I wanted was the best for you. I would never let you live in pain, so I let you go. It was a long, tortured night, and come morning life ended, not just for you but for me as well. I died that day, but still I breathe, still I walk. My dearest Vixen, I miss you terribly.

Time moved so excruciatingly slow those days and weeks and months after you died. I sought diversion. I sought the bottle. Nothing has changed. I still cry. I remember. I ache. I seek the bottle, the moments alone. I wish I could be with you. It's hard to believe that I still breathe a year after I let you go. I ask for a mercy that never comes.

You were so much a part of me, and you remain in my heart. You tug at my soul every time I retire for the day and every time I rise, reluctantly, to live a live so ugly, so empty. Yes, there are moments when I smile, moments when I laugh, but happiness as a state is nowhere.

I love you, I miss you, I hold you in my heart. I think of you each day, and I die each day, in my heart, knowing you are gone forever.

I love you, my baby, my Hunhun, my Sensen, my Vickysensen.

All those silly, funny, wonderful names I called you.

My baby.

Lovingly remembering my baby Almond (Dec.16, 1994-June 2, 2007), on the anniversary of her birth

My dearest Almond,

I see you everyday on my computer.

Everyday, I hold you in my heart.

Everyday, I wish I could be with you again.

Always, I'm thankful that I had you, for those close to 13 years that you were on this earth. Those were beautiful years, my baby.

You were my joy.

You were my consolation.

You were always there.

Once, when I returned after days away, you were the one who jumped on my lap and wouldn't let me go.

My dearest, dearest Almond. I had the best years with you. I endured the bad years because I had you.

My lovely, my Come Baby, happy birthday.

After all these years, losing you still hurts.

If there is kindness and mercy at all, we shall be with each other again.

If only in ashes.

Losing Christmas: Life after Vixen

It's Christmas time. I feel nothing. Or maybe too much of a loss.

At times, or maybe all the time, I hear the carols. Always, at night, I see the lights. Christmas. I feel nothing. No bittersweet feelings, no sentimental memories of Christmases past, no returning sense of loves lost during the season. This is life after Vixen. Christmas is gone. I think only of the first anniversary of Vixen's death, drawing closer and closer. I grow more and more depressed.

The feel of Christmas isn't there. The wonderful cloudiness of past seasons is gone, or the taste of Christmas. Just like the rain, which lost its luster and its romance and its beauty and its memories when Vixen died, Christmas has been lost to me. I'll go through the rituals, through what is expected of me. The season means nothing. Very little has meant anything at all since Vixen died.

Even before I lost Vixen, I knew that should the day come when I would lose her, I would lose everything. I've proven myself right.

Everyday I live is a testament to the nonexistence of "God" as many believe this god to be. Fantasies, illusions, deceptions.

The wild is more compassionate. It can give you a horrible ending, but it will give you a fairly quick end in any case.

In the meantime, here I am, still lingering, approaching the first anniversary of my baby's death--yes, still here.

It's Christmas time, but Christmas, to me, is lost forever.

Still here...and wondering and waiting

It occurred to me today, in those thoughtful moments as I walked to where I usually find an hour or so of solitary drink. Peace and forgetfulness.

Maybe I've lingered this long because I had to see Five to his final journey. I saw Boobie and Vixen to that journey, honestly believing that I was sparing them pain, one of an unknown disease that was circulating in the neighborhood, the other of cancer that had spread to her lungs and her ribs, all with her liver and stomach problems aggravated by age. I was there, too, when Almond died, on her own, twisting in that final moment on a Saturday afternoon.

When Vixen died, I should have gone as well. But then, there was Five. I saw Five born into this world, so big and bright a puppy as I had ever seen. I was there as well to see him go, hard as it was. It would have been harder to see him fight and fight and fight a losing battle. And Five was so strong that he would have continued even if it hurt him, as it already was. I had to be there for him. I had hoped it wouldn't come to that. Doing it for Vixen was so painful. I had to do it with Five again.

And when you think about it, who else was there? A handyman who cared nothing about such a beautiful life? It had to be I. Five went out of this world with someone who loved him. The same with Boobie, with Almond, and with Vixen. And in all instances, I had to be the one with them in their final moments.

But all are gone now. Boobie, Almond, Vixen, Five. All those babies to whom I owed the duty to see them through to the final journey, all are gone.

It should be my turn now. My work is done. I'm tired.

Three babies in a dream

I dreamed I was with you again, my babies Boobie, Almond, Vixen.

I was feeding you chicken, each of you waiting your turn for a piece. You were alive again, and near, my lovely, lovely babies.

How I wish I could have stayed in that dream, or that I could just go to it every time I sleep...and one day just stay there, never again to awake.

I miss you so much, my babies. Life has been dark and meaningless without you. I wish for a final mercy that never comes.

I love you, my babies, my Boobie, my Almond, my Vixen. How I wish to be with you again.

On All Saints Day 2012

This All Saints Day and this All Souls Day, I remember the babies who have gone, babies who live in my heart, in memory, loved always:

Boobie, Almond, Vixen, Garpy, Prudence, Greta, Five, Gums, Eenie, Minnie, Minie, Moe, Fuzz, Thor, Shad, Sad Sack, Frankie, Jelly, Jam, Pretty, Star, Danka, Clio, Sarge, Poopsie 1 & 2, Hannah, Googie, Hali, Baka, Bunga, Little Dapple and the newborn puppies who never lived long.

Ganda, Drums, Zazu, Kitty, Galahad, Little Cute, the unnamed, the simply disappeared: Scarian, Nala, Simba, Bait, Chabilita, et al.

Loves lost is nothing compared with lives lost.

Remains and ashes

If you're reading this, please have my ashes scattered on the same ground where my babies are buried.

Kaisy

It was nice seeing Kaisy again.

She can cool hell itself and make mud sparkle.

Untitled

Sometimes, or often, or whatever, it feels as if I just don't care anymore. Who knows, I may be at the end of my days. Just let me know, give me a sign, so I can make preparations.

My babies, I miss you terribly.

Five, February 8, 1998-September 30, 2012

 Five is gone.

The last connection I had to Boobie, Almond, and Vixen is gone. He was 14 years old and six months (almost seven months), the oldest baby we had ever had. He was also the strongest. He survived two toad poisonings, but in April he was diagnosed with a liver tumor. Still, with a daily dose of Essentiale he managed to get better, till a week or so ago when his strength began to give way. Even then, even as he was being euthenized, he still fought, even though he didn't even know where he was or who was around him.

It was a tearful decision. It was not mine to make, since Five was not mine, but I counseled it. He came from Boobie and Almond, but he went to my parents. Still, I had to say we had to let him go. He was sleeping on his own piss. Ticks and flies were ganging up on him because he wouldn't even stand up. Five was fighting a losing battle, as were Boobie and Vixen, two other Alphas, when their time was near. These three were true Alphas: Boobie, Vixen, and Five. They just wouldn't let go. They just fought and fought, even when it was hurting them.

Some decisions haunt you for a lifetime.

Five has a story, left to another day. For now, I just want to remember him as dearest Five (Doc), the largest, strongest, and brightest of the litter.

We let him go today, exactly one year to the day his sister, Batik (Dopey), died.

How we will miss you, Five, dearest, dearest Five.

Vixen, Sept. 1, 1998-Dec. 20, 2011: Lovingly remembered and missed so much on this, the anniversary of her birth

My dearest Vixen,

I lit a candle for you today, the first time that I've done so for you. This is the first September 1 that I have to go through without you. What joy there was when you were born, and later, when I decided to keep you. What joy and comfort you brought to my life, each day you were with me. What torment there was when I had to let you go. No day goes by that I do not wish to be with you, one with the earth, at peace finally, with the babies I had loved so much, now gone, all gone. You are gone.

I lit a candle for you, as I do for every anniversary of my babies gone. Today is especially painful. My dearest Vixen, I want so much to have you with me again, healthy, alive, here again.

I often relive the last day, the last night. You were the best of me, and now you are gone.

My dearest Vixen, how could I have lived all these months without you. If there is mercy, let it come. I ask for it, I need it. I have lived too long, and I am tired.

Let me be with my Vixen again.

Fuck you, you win

Yes, fuck you, you win.

Maybe, or surely, I deserve it. Why have the small consolation of a victory when my babies are gone?

Just give me the final mercy.

To my gone babies: days full of love

My dearest babies,

You are all gone now, but everyday I had with you was a day full of love. I had many failings, and there were times when I lost my temper. But there was never a day that I didn't love you, and there was never a day that I wished something or someone other than you. You were life, you were love, you were loved--as you are now, even though you are no longer here.

That love exists now only in memory, in the pain that I feel over your loss, in quiet lamentations over lives lost and love cut short because your lives were all too short.

The pain creeps in sometimes. Most of the time it just hits me. My babies are gone. My Boobie, my Almond, my Vixen. All gone. 

I had wished, like every parent, that you would outlive me. But our life spans were different. But I wished all the same, each day spent in love, yet each day spent in fear--of losing you, of living a life without you.

That fear is reality now. From a life filled with days of love, I live one I can barely understand. This is life now, without you.

God and August nights

On a night in August, many years ago, I stood on the third floor of a retreat house on a hill in Angono. I had fallen in love. I looked down on the lights of the town, and I said a prayer, over and over, over a glass or two or three of scotch. Let me have this woman, and I will be happy. That prayer in the night, said to a god I know now does not exist, were "answered," if you believe in god. August was happy then.

One night in August, I watched a woman sleep. I had fallen in love. I clung to her voice, to her eyes, to her lips, her voice. "Let's be friends forever," she said. I see her face, her eyes, those lips, even now. One afternoon I looked into her eyes. One night I watched her doodle hearts on a pad. I wished to never go away. I walked away.

One night in August my baby died. I didn't know it then, but I cried. Something told me, somehow I knew. My baby is dying. The next morning I got the news: Garpy was dead.

One night in August told me "God" was good. All other August nights tell me "God" does not and simply cannot exist.

Garpy, December 29, 1982-August 10, 1991: Lovingly remembered on the anniversary of his death

My dearest Garpy

You are missed and remembered always.
You are loved now as you were loved then.

My dearest Garpy.

Getting harder, not easier

The days are getting harder, not easier.
Whoever said time heals didn't know squat.
It just gets harder, and the pain keeps coming back.
I am dead, yet I am not.
I want to drown in oblivion.
Oblivion, oblivion.
I am a prisoner to my cowardice.
I want to sleep and never wake.
At times I feel I'm coming to a point where I just won't care anymore.
It just hurts too much.
I wait.

Me, 1962-2012

May it be so, may it be so.
May it mercifully be so.

Missing you always

It always hits you. Again and again it hits you, the sense of loss.

You do things--wake up, fix the trash, come home--and remember how it used to be when she was there, your baby, your baby.

How terribly empty life has been since she died, how terribly ugly it has been.

Every day is a reminder of what you've lost and what will never be again.

The desolation is immense, seemingly endless.

There is no mercy in surviving.

"Say Goodbye": A poem for Vixen, of Vixen, seven months after her death

How do you say goodbye? When do you do so?

Do you say it when your love is buried,

unable to hear, cremated, or earlier, too weak,

maybe too delirious to hear?

Perhaps you say it when you know death is real: it is inevitable,

and goodbye must be said—if only to unhearing ears,

as sight and hearing and understanding are gone.

Will your love understand your touch,

the pain throbbing through your fingers and the unseen tears?

Will your love comfort you when your love knows only pain?

How do you say goodbye?

How can you?

Life suddenly is nothing, meaning only life is gone

or will be, when your own hearing and seeing and your breath are gone.

How do you say goodbye

to your love who is to die?

How do you say it when goodbye offers you no comfort,

just the realization:

your life, your love, is dead.

###

Ugly, ugly world

My dearest Vixen.

What an ugly world this his been since you left. I hate waking up. I hate the days. I look forward only to those two hours of drink and solitude I have each day away from home, six beers and two shots of scotch in a bar before heading back home...each day without you, each night without you.

This is life now. It is hardly life.

Every time I sleep I think of never waking, but I always do.

This is life now. It is a daily torment.

Boobie, June 18, 1991-July 21, 2005; Remembering my baby, born 21 years ago today

My dearest Boobie.

You made life beautiful. And when life wasn't beautiful, you made it bearable.

When life brought sorrow, which was often, you put in a pinch of joy.

You are missed, always.

My lovely, lovely Boobie.

Almond, December 16, 1994-June 2, 2007: Remembering my baby, now five years gone

It's been a sad day from the start. Five years ago, also on a Saturday, I lost my baby, my Comebaby, my Almond, my Mondy, my Alimondmond.

Five years to the day. I weep as I write this.

I saw you die, one twist and you were gone. I thought you were just stretching, but then you were gone. You were sick for about two weeks, red discharge coming out of your vagina. That last day, you ran out and vomitted, you wouldn't eat. You had lumps all over, said the vet. Then you were gone, just like that.

My baby, how could I have survived all these years without you? I guess I had Vixen for consolation, a reason t live, to smile, to laugh. Now even Vixen is gone.

I miss you so much, my Comebaby, and the tears keep coming.

Oh how I wish I were with you again, if only in death. No need for an afterlife, just to be with you in nonexistence, gone together, as we were in life together.

My dearest Almond, my dearest Comebaby. Why am I not with you in the bliss of death?

A tribute

A tribute to my babies. Were it only possible for you to have lived forever.