ps echoes

yesterday at the playground i saw a woman who reminded me of my mom. she had grey hair and was beautiful, but not in a conventional way. she was watching her son play, patiently, calmly. she was relaxed and there was something about her ... i'm still not sure what it was. but i could see Mom again, as a person and not a figment of my imagination. i could picture what it would be like to be in her real presence again for a moment. to see her watch my son...it took my breath away.

i don't usually try to picture her much. it's too painful. i wanted to go over and talk to this woman, just chat with her, to be in her presence for a while. every few years i run into someone like that, who seems to have a similar spirit and i try to engage them in conversation. to get that feeling again, if only for a moment. but i was with a group of people, so i didn't.

so today my head is full of ghosts. it's been a rough week. time to go make dinner.

sunday

i'm tired.

a little sleepy too, but mainly just tired.

complain alert. i'm going to complain.

i'm grateful for the wonderful things in my life and maybe you can make it through this existence without having moments where you feel like you're going to collapse and you don't know what you're doing, but i can't.

i almost don't see the point in writing this, but i thought it might help clear my head. i'm just not sure what the point of all this is. what are we doing? why are we doing any of this? don't get me wrong, i have ambitions, desires...i have so many desires it's laughable. LAUGHABLE. some might call them delusions, but i call them desires.

and i'll continue to work hard and try to be fair, both to myself and to others, and attain what i want while enjoying The Present. but i'm just not sure what the point of all of this is.

maybe there's no point. the point is, we have to do something...i mean, we do have to do something before we die, why not build a life? a life full of meaning, whatever that is to you.

ambition, success, the ability to enjoy your life, putting food on the table, nurturing your family, adventure, love, money, power, legacy, spiritual awareness. whatever it is that makes you tick... do you ever just stop and wonder -- what the fuck am i doing?

miles davis' "so what?" just came on the radio. timing is everything.

i have much in my life that i love, more than most of the people on the planet, i'd imagine. i love my family, love where i live, i have things i love to do that i may just be lucky enough to do again one day if we can figure out a few logistics.

i think it was growing up listening to my dad address the Big Questions every week that made me ask myself these kinds of things since i can remember. it was his job to ask, why are we here, how do we do this better, what is our relationship to god (that one i don't ask myself much anymore), how can be better people...

i think it boils down to being a stay at home mom for just over a year with an active imagination and a strong yearning to engage in the adult world more. that's what i'll chalk it up to.

that and needed medication so my synapses can trap serotonin efficiently. never been very good at that.

i guess we do our best and then when Life kicks you in the gut and you're lying on the ground with the wind knocked out of you, you don't ask "what am i doing?" because really what you need to concentrate on is breathing again. walking again.

you get up and you get your breath back and start to walk, ignoring the pain in your ribs because the alternative is give up. and that's no fun. i've seen how that plays out too. hint: not well.

i suppose there are people who grow old enjoying their lives who don't end up in tragedy or personal disaster. that's a good goal. to live to a ripe, old age without committing seppuku (just learned about that yesterday) or driving everyone who loves me away with bitterness and madness....that's a good goal.

but i'll think more about that tomorrow. today, i'm tired.

mo

good-bye, my friend.

last night as we were sitting and having a couple of drinks, trying to absorb the loss of our dear mo, my husband said, "Is that a full moon? Yeah, it is. Fuck you, Full Moon, I want my cat back."

i found his toy stuffed dinosaur and burst into tears, the one he brought and put on our bed so he could take a nap next to it. i saw his brother look for him and burst into tears. i realized we will never again sit outside on the terrace having a glass of wine while mo rubs our legs and hands back and forth in pure bliss at having our company outside. during story time with my son he would come and sit, butt to butt with me, back to back, and purr. i read my son stories tonight and no one came, there was no warm, slight pressure on my back, reassuring me.

he was the cutest kitten i've ever seen. and that's saying something. he was the happiest, most joyful animal i've had the pleasure of living with and loving. he adored my husband and would come on our bed and watch him get dressed every morning, waiting for the occasional pet as he walked around our room.

he peed on stuff when we went on vacation. it was maddening. the last time we went away he peed on our dining room table. he wasn't a saint, he was a cat. a cat who liked to have us around.

the night before he died, he sat at my husband's feet on the carpet, all paws tucked under his body, not moving, not looking for anything, just happy to be in his presence.

his brother is glued to my right hip as i type this. he's never lived a single day in his life without his brother. they would wash one another, nap together, play together, chase one another and spend nights outside together. he's so lonely it's heart breaking.

the lottery was $400 million the day after he died. i said to my husband, "i thought, 'would i rather have $400 million or have my cat back? and i realized, i'd rather have mo back'". my husband said, "i thought the same thing. yeah, of course i'd rather have him back."

we've lost two furry friends in the last month. our house is so much quieter, so much emptier. i keep thinking i see them both on the bed, around a corner, waiting for food. it's just one. one, lonely cat who doesn't understand where his buddies went.

the older cat who had been ill, while it was a real loss because he was my feline soul mate, he had lived a long, good life. but mo, he was young and vibrant and just fine right up until my husband walked back in the bedroom and found him dead on the floor.

these little creatures that people dismiss as lesser than humans... let me tell you, i have mourned more losing these two beings than i've mourned some family members' passing. they fill up our hearts and bring us joy and comfort every day.

i just said to my husband, "how am i supposed to cope with the loss of my cherished cats without the very beings that help me cope with loss?!". he replied, "i don't know". well, me neither.

i'm going to climb in bed tonight with my one remaining cat and snuggle and watch tv with a glass of wine. and try not to cry too much.

Shod with adamant

my friend, fellow ex-new yorker and roommate woke me by walking in my room, "get up. a plane just flew into the world trade center."
me, groggy, "what? on purpose?" i stumble into her bedroom where the news was on. we had gone swing dancing at windows on the world, lived in new york, started becoming adults in new york.

my brother was due to fly from nyc into san francisco, where i lived, that evening on american airlines. he'd chosen a later flight, thank god.

my mother had died two months previous and i was already in a grief-stricken fog.

i lost a lot in 2001. not as much as some, more than others. it's all tied up in grief, that time. i was losing the last of my girlhood. realizing what it meant to feel alone and afraid and truly heart broken. and what it meant to be strong.

i love you, new york. then and now.