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.