a garden in riotous bloom
Beautiful. Damn hard. Increasingly useful.
Entries tagged with experiences.loss 
9 December 2016 01:09 - "Out of order"
rosefox: A woman with words running through her head nonstop. (noisy brain)
This story has a happy ending.

What it's like to have OCD and misplace something )

Now I am going to take a nice relaxing hot shower and go to bed. And tomorrow I will still be in the universe where I have my sunglasses and at least that little part of everything will be okay.
1 August 2016 02:37 - "The most tired"
rosefox: A zombie from a Nintendo game. (zombie)
The funeral went as well as a funeral can. J's family is splendid, even in the midst of sorrow. [twitter.com profile] pablod was tremendously kind and drove us there and back. X handled babycare while I supported J. It was hard, but not intolerable, and I'm very glad we went. And [personal profile] metaphortunate was totally right: a baby is one of the best things you can bring to a funeral. Kit was a little overwhelmed at times but mostly their smiley sociable self and quite happy to be smooched and dandled by cousins they'd never met, and their big grins really lightened people's hearts. Also they gave us an excuse to leave when we got wiped out. (And we put them in pajamas before driving home and managed our first-ever car seat–to-crib transfer with a minimum of fuss, because they are the very best baby.)

To get very petty for a moment: someday I would like a vacation where nothing bad happens. I'm 0 for the past 3. But having spent the first week of my vacation on unexpected grief and funeral travel planning, I am at least going to spend the second week of it on being on vacation.
29 July 2016 22:11 - "Her memory for a blessing"
rosefox: A needle drawing thread that forms the word "Love". (family)
Josh's grandmother, Trudy Zeidman, has died following a short bout of illness. She was nearly 93 and had lived a full, long life, traveling the world many times and refusing to be bound by notions of what women or older people couldn't or shouldn't do. She was alert and sharp to the end, and determined to get better, even when she was very ill; a week ago J and I visited her (and Skyped in X and Kit, which I am tremendously glad we could do) and she insisted she was going to be at Kit's kindergarten graduation. She outlived two husbands and is survived by two children and their spouses, three grandchildren and their spouses, and four great-grandchildren, all of whom she adored passionately.

Trudy welcomed me into her family with open arms. Whenever I told her how lucky I was to have J, she retorted, "HE'S lucky to have YOU!" At our wedding, as soon as the ceremony was over, she heckled us until we kissed. She was boisterous and vigorous and opinionated. And she was always willing to change her mind in the direction of being more kind and open-hearted, whether that meant accepting that her daughter was marrying a Japanese man (a big deal to a Jewish woman who lived through WWII), accepting her children's gay friends, or accepting that her youngest great-grandchild was born out of wedlock. She was the life of the party at our baby shower, visited us after Kit was born, and said over and over again that Kit was fortunate to be so loved by so many people; we maintained the fiction of X being our "roommate", but we're pretty sure she knew what was up and didn't care at all as long as there was love and happiness. I'm so glad X and I got to know her a little, and got to introduce her to Kit.

photo )
Four generations: Trudy, Glory, Josh, and Kit. Photo by Erika Kapin.

Rest in peace, Trudy. Thank you for all the laughs and love.
rosefox: Me hugging a giant teddy bear, very sad. (sad)
Java J. Jasper, 1996(?)–2014. He was the tallest, longest, hardest-working, kindest, most elegant, absolute bestest cat.

In his youth he was an escape artist--I believe he's gotten out of every home we've ever lived in, most notably by unlatching a window screen, going down the fire escape, and jumping onto an air conditioner four stories off the ground--and an athlete who once broke his jaw by misjudging a leap from the top of a bookcase. He aged gracefully into a dignified gentleman, tolerating years of medication for pancreatitis while acting as though he'd never been sick a day in his life. He took his responsibilities extremely seriously: kneading his favorite fuzzy red blankets like he had a biscuit quota, watching vigilantly to make sure we didn't drown in the shower, and cuddling anyone who was sad or unwell. He was strongwilled and could be demanding and insistent, especially if a person was eating chicken or steak and he felt he deserved a taste; there was never any question that he was Top Cat, and he was quite comfortable bossing around people as well as other kitties. But he was a gentle giant, never a fighter, and when we picked him up or dragged him into our laps he patiently put up with our shenanigans (though afterwards he would wash vigorously to recover his dignity). He had a purr like a motorboat and shared it more generously than any cat I've ever known. He was happiest curled up in a cardboard box, sprawled on a windowsill or in a sunbeam, stretched out on Josh's chest, hanging out on a bed with a person nearby, or licking Sam's head. (When we knew his life was nearing its end, both Josh and X independently brought Sam over to him so he could groom her one last time.)

Java was a tolerant step-cat to me and X. He was a bemused but affectionate foster parent to Sam, and he carefully and patiently taught her how to cat. When we disturbed his old age by bringing home Sophie and Alex, he graciously made room for them, brooking no disruption of his routine while magnificently ignoring their social errors. He was friendly and respectful to our human guests. Most of all he was Josh's cat, and Josh was his person, for 17 good long happy years.

He will be greatly greatly missed.

Photos )

Comments are off because I can't handle it right now, but your well-wishes are much appreciated.
This page was loaded on 24 April 2017 at 01:29 GMT.