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.