Bye to an old friend

There is a heavy sadness today. Last night my wife's cat of 23 years passed away. Oscar has been part of the family almost ten years longer than I have, and he has known the girls since the day we brought them home from the hospital. When I first met him he was a healthy twenty-two pound cat who loved to jump in your lap and wanted nothing more than to be loved by someone and petted.

We have known for quite some time that this was probably Oscar's last year. Last night he yeowed, stumbled and went behind the couch. I glanced behind me just in time to see that he was moving slowly and I saw him wobble. I pulled the couch out just far enough away from the wall so that Aly could squeeze in to lift him out. She was crying and said, "Mama, I think he's sick."

His eyes were cloudy and we gently covered him in a towel because he was cold. We suspect that he may have had a stroke.

We thought of taking him to the vet but we knew they would just put him to sleep. And since he wasn't howling out in pain, we chose to keep him with us.

He looked at each of us as we all gathered around him. Lois held him in her lap as we all sat around and cried like babies. She told us all the Oscar stories that we've heard time and time again and we all laughed and cried.

I eventually had to go to bed because I had to work and the girls and Lois camped out in the family room. The girls set up an airbed by the couch and Lois curled up on the couch with Oscar in her arms.

At 1:30 this morning Lois came upstairs crying and said that Oscar was gone.

It has been a long time since I've felt this sort of grief. Sitting here I have tears rolling down my cheeks. I am thinking of my wife and the pain she must be going through. I am thinking of my youngest daughter who woke up this morning only to learn about her beloved friend and then who fell back to sleep with tears on her face. And later this morning, the other will wake up to the sad news and the crying will continue.

I have not seen our family shed this many tears in a long time. And as my friend Renee said the other day, "Hard times."

Please stop by and offer your condolences to my wife at Miscellany.

Ghost of birthdays past

Today is my 49 birthday. A little over a year ago I had my doubts that I'd make it this far. Now I realize that was only fear. 

My children and my wife showered me with chocolate, books and clothes this morning, and I think we're going to see Avatar.

I've never been big on the birthday thing. Before I got married I kind of always disappeared. I've always been somewhat of a loner. Even after 13 years of marriage it is still hard for me to get used to it. It is amazing how we as children can be psychologically scarred for life. My father, who was once mad at me and in fury took away my gifts right before my birthday or Christmas. I can't remember which. He dragged out a little red tool box out of the closet that they were going to give me and said, "See this, this is mine now." The other gifts came out and went away just the same. I have never quite gotten over that.

I am still not used to it, but as the children get older and their want for celebration gets more enthusiastic each year I cannot help but smile. They are pivotal in coaxing out the little boy in their father. Sometimes I am stunned by their actions when they do something that brings tears of joy to my face. 

I look forward to the many years ahead, and while I don't want to live to be a 100, I want to see them date and go to college and walk them down a rose-strewn sheet of pedals. I want to hold grandchildren and watch them laugh and play. I want to shower them with gifts.

Darkness

Tonight there is a new moon. From what my wife tells me, Haiti at night is pitch black. Imagine how that must be right now. Swallowed in darkness. Now imagine being swallowed in rubble and darkness.
My heart breaks for this country. As if they didn't have enough hardships already.
Lois went to Haiti in 2000. She went with a Salt Lake City  team called Healing Hands for Haiti on assignment to write about their work establishing a rehabilitation clinic.
For nine years she has talked about her experience there. She has talked about it often with a gulping, stifled cry.
She has talked about this beautiful place that has garbage piled knee deep on the sides of the streets because the garbage trucks don't run and there's no place for the people to put it.
Now there are bodies stacked there as well. She has talked about the people she describes as lovely and who hang onto hope, always smiling.
For the last two days as news breaks through in bits and pieces, she cries and half screams, "They need equipment!" The rehab clinic that she helped work on is now in rubble and there is no word on some of the staff. But the doctors and nurses that work in these clinics may not even be capable of helping the wounded. Nobody knows. The bandages and medicines that are extremely needed are now buried beneath the rubble.
My wife's niece over at From the Top of the Stairs sent out an e-mail today to friends and family saying that her friend had just gone to Haiti (just outside Port au Prince) on Sunday for what was supposed to be a 10-day humanitarian mission helping out in an orphanage. She has a broken ankle and cuts, but there is worry of infection. Another thing buried in the rubble is antibiotics.
I was thinking of what Lois said the other night, "It is pitch black and the night is filled with screams. I can't imagine."
Tonight this keeps running through my mind and I am praying for some comfort and hope and help.