The passing of seasons

 I always thought it would be easier to live after the cats were gone. We were always saying that we were not going to do it again. Very smugly taking beautiful things for granted. Even Donna said, we just did not understand how exceptional they were. Lava's final cries in pain were of death itself, I just know it, and they were the most harrowing sound I have ever heard. It tears me to the core.  Doctor House was right though, there is no dignity in dying, we all do it alone and it's ugly and horrifically terrible. The only thing we can do is live with dignity. 

Our daily numbness makes us not even do that so well. And in Goodbye, Farewell, Amen, there were light points and deep ones too. Even in hardship, we can take the good for granted. Hardship, well yes, it can have lasting effects. And that is on a chemical level. I heard a summary of societal decade disintegration. I know this all means something yet I am losing the drive to put the idea into a summary. Everything is a mad rush to stay steps ahead of the predator. My elaborate propane system, combat finance strategies, racing the first snowfall, and of course,  paying my rent every day in the tower of song. 

Sadness always brings words. I love words but I do not like the sadness that they ride in on. I think John Lennon said it best in the song I know from 1973. "The years pass by so quickly, one thing I've understood, is I'm only learning to tell the tree from wood." It's like that, you travel so far, only to realize that just maybe you are only just beginning to learn something. What a raw deal that is! Inside fueling the engines there is the rage in the cage, so carefully accessed just like an internal combustion engine. Gives a whole new meaning to Joe Walsh's words "I'm just looking for clues at the scene of the crime." 

Taking things for granted is like Paul Simon's Slip Slidin' Away. "He said a bad day is one in which I lay in bed and think about things that might have been." And so many ways, that burning of seconds, minutes, hours, days, and years. I know what that regret will be. So here it is Wednesday. Before the Nights in White Satin and before the Late Lament, can you change what "bedsitter people" will think of? Can you change just a little of this? As I saw with Lava in these last lonely cries, the Late Lament does not take its time, it is not a time of peaceful reflection. It is like being hit by a car. The moments after being so awful and so lonely. Rose Tyler figured it out she could not save her dad, all she could do was make him feel just a little less alone when the moment came. That's all. 

Some days you hit that coffee mark perfectly and other days you think you did but you did not. Harry Callahan asked a detective as he arrived at the diner back in 1984 if coffee could determine a day's worth. 

In all the reflection one can have, there really is only one relevant question, and that is: where do we go from here? Knowing all we know is the total sum of wisdom. What do we do next? Do it now, make it count. In reflection, but looking to draw wisdom from scraped knees and massive falls, I think I might pick an album out each day. It could lead to things to write about. To take my boys sometime in the future on a trip with me to decades before they were even born. "The world's gone crazy nobody gives a damn anymore and they're breaking off relationships and leaving on sailing ships for far and distant shores. For them, it's all over, but I'm going to stay. I wouldn't leave anyway, I know that someday, we'll find a way, we'll be okay." Those words from Ray Davies in 1978 on the Sleepwalker album.  Why did I mention it?  It has been playing in my head since 3:30 this morning.   I totally hear the rain on the rooftop. It has the sounds of autumn to it. If last year has taught me anything, I have learned that you cannot predict what the coming fall and Winter hold. I remember how Rosilee loved my 1982 piece "The Orange Leaf." She saw the words how I intended them to be seen.  They were so profound to her, with the impact of war.  I sent it to Yankee Magazine back then, and they responded with static.  As deep as I thought they might be, of course, they were not.  If you are deep, if you hear the words for what they really are, you know, they must be respected.  

For a beautiful little girl

 Dear Lava,

I cannot begin to tell you how much I love you and how grateful I am that you came into our lives. You brought so much joy to the childhoods of my sons into our family. You were our little Alpha. You owned them all and you were fantastic at it. There were things we never could quite understand, like how you used to try to kill your brother if he got outside because he smelled different. How you love being brushed and did not want to be at the same time. 

Every morning you were at the top of the stairs as I started my day. You complained to me at night when you wanted me to go to bed so you could sleep in the recliner. 

Lava, you were there through good and bad times. From Mom and the kids bringing you out to the camper to do homeschooling, to being there when Noah came home after three weeks in the ICU. I will never forget how Noah cried when you acted like you did not know him when he got home, but you both worked it out. I loved how you used to walk under the dogs' chins, brushing your tail under their faces and reminding them who was really in charge. The look in their eyes showed that they totally understood. You were affectionate and on your terms always. 

You taught me more things than I ever thought possible. It's funny how such a small being can teach us so much. Some of these go pretty deep too. In the hours after we laid you to rest, I scrolled through my phone to see the last photo I took of you. March 5th, I was ashamed of this. It means I take way too much for granted and worry and complain about how much I have to do. I am sorry for that my little friend. I am sorry on a much larger scale that I know will take time to understand. 

The loss of your brother about a year ago did make me focus on you more. I know that I appreciated you more during that time and we got along better than ever. Our beautiful girl, you were so much more than a family pet. You were a defining and essential part of the forming of the people my sons are, each in their own right. One of the most tragically beautiful moments I have ever known is the relief I felt when Liam arrived just after we lost you. That little boy who would place you on top of his head and walk all over the house holding you steady by your front paws. His tender but fierce love was evident as he took the time he needed to say goodbye. Liam's love, which I say comes with so much self-sacrifice and so much honor was so defined by your years with us. Somehow you showed us the inner light that is in Haylie too, not only in her love for you but how she is there for Liam. 

Lava, one thousand thank-yous are not enough to acknowledge the incredible difference you have made for our family. I somehow know that when it comes to you and your crazy brother, this was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. I can't imagine we will ever love a cat as much as we have loved you. I can't foresee that one will ever hold such an important job as the one that you had and did so well. 

For every moment I acted like you would just be here always and did not show how appreciated you really were, I am truly sorry my little girl. You were amazing and one of the biggest souls I have ever encountered. Thanks to you, I realize that a life raising your children is a perfect assembling of little parts that are so important.  I miss you and I love you.