Saturday, Aug. 24, 2024 - 12:44 pm.
Today's the one month anniversary of Nico's passing. I cry here and there over his absence, and so many things remind me of him. He was with me for 13 years, a lifetime. I also get a bit of anguish when I remember how he went, I'm just horrified that he went through such suffering in his last days and I wasn't even here to comfort him, let alone to save him... which I could have if I hadn't been on a trip (I don't kick myself over going on the trip per se, but I do over a string of choices that ended up with his death).
Today's also the third month anniversary of bringing our son to our home. I look back to those days, he was with us for 12 days and it feels like it was no more than two or three. This week I've been particularly sensitive, missing the life we could have and tearing up when I see small children with their parents on the street. What's especially painful is going back to how much I looked forward to finally adopting our son, after waiting for eight years, and how beautiful and perfect he was.
Yesterday a friend from my PhD years wrote me asking how the little one was doing. I read her message and my heart broke. I kept postponing telling her the adoption fell through. We started talking a few months ago over some meme I shared on my feed, and it turned out she was expecting a baby. She gave birth to her child around the time we got Sun. Then I just could not find a way to write her without sounding like "Congrats on your bundle of joy! I just lost mine".
I've been on the verge of tears these days. Sun turns another month every 20th, we met him on May 22nd, and brought him home two days later; and Nico died because of my negligence on July 24th. And it's been only three months since we brought Sun home! It feels that it happened so long ago that I barely see his face in my mind anymore. But then I try, I do, and I feel like crying.
I suppose I cling to this pain because it's all I have left of him. Of a life with a child. Andrew said maybe I could talk to someone, like, go to therapy, and I said no because this is fucking grief. Then he apologized and said it was just him being his avoidant self. I don't need to talk to someone, there's nothing to say that I haven't said or ellaborated. It just hurts, some times more than others. I know the one-year anniversary will roll around (for Sun, for Nico) and I'll break down. It happens when you lose a piece of your life.
On my list in the last entry about people Andrew and I know that have also experienced a loss recently, I forgot to add two more: my PhD student lost his aunt to cancer; and a friend's 9-year-old daughter lost a classmate(!) also to cancer. This friend was discussing about taking her kid to a psychologist but this classmate, another girl and a close friend of hers, passed away like two months ago. That's nothing. I too told my friend to give her time. Her daughter and friends are doing things to try to make sense of losing someone like them, at an age when that's not supposed to happen.
Loss just fucks with your head, man. It fucks with your heart, your spirit. Let it be.
On happy news, and on the family front, my mom has finally made a significant change in her life, which I did not think would be possible. She stood up to my dad (no other way to put it) and said she wanted her sister -loathed by my father- to take her to some of her appointments. My sister sent my other siblings and I a few pics of my mom in a nice open space doing her exercises to strenghten her muscles with a coach, and my aunt is by her side walking on a treadmill. They're both looking happy. That's the life my mom deserved in her later years: being active (right now, as much as her fragile body allows it), being out getting fresh air and having a chit-chat with her beloved sister. That's the life she always denied to herself.
More happy news: our new cat, Bert (haha), is adapting to our home. He's less than a year old so he's still very active and makes a mess all around, but he makes us laugh. He's a sweetheart when he isn't going feral, he likes to cuddle with me. I miss Nico deeply, but I'm glad to have this crazy one to lighten up the burden of these days. He reminds me of Nico in some ways too, it's that orange cat one-brain-cell energy.
Marla is unamused and groals at him sometimes, but we took our time to get them acquainted to each other's scents so they haven't fought. It's been a week since we brought Bert home and they didn't see each other for days. We brought them together through treats and wet food. Also, I'm amazed how both of them do seem to make an effort to not fight when they cross paths. Marla's always been quite decent, and this one (again, when not in gobling mode) seems to have the potential to be too.
I bawled last night over the loss, but I'm glad to end this entry on positive notes. I'm lucky and thankful to find pockets of comfort all around.
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