So, how are you holding up?

Why, thank you, 'me', for asking. I am doing horrible. But I don't go ahead and let it on as bad as I am. Why not, you may ask?

It's simple. People ask how are you are... multiple times a day. But 99.9% of the time, they don't REALLY want to know. They are just being polite. I've done it before... I try not to, but I have. Everyone has, some more than others. Yes, even you, dear reader. I know you've done it as well. You ask, but before the person even gets one word out, you are thinking about your own problems, or what you want for supper.

I can hear the protests now. But, ah well, this is the game that has been more and more frequently played as American society becomes more and more 'me, me, me'. I better get used to it. Yes, I know it's 'me' going on here, but guess what? It's MY own damn blog, so there!

Anyway, if you are still here reader...and haven't walked away from the screen shaking your head, sure that I have lost it, good for you. (And me of course, that means you are a good friend to me.... and I need at least a few of those.)

Do you really want to know how I am holding up, with Midnight's passing just behind me still?

Really?

Okay. Well, here it goes, and how it went. Midnight Binx had been getting worse slowly for the past couple of weeks. I knew it was happening, but I also knew that I wanted to be with her through it all. She was my baby after all. The night before, Thursday, I fell asleep around 12 at night, and woke up just before 1:30. She was in her bed next to me, and I just knew it was her last night. So, I sat up with her for the rest of the night, holding her and petting her. I put her in the litter box and held her up so she could go when she needed to use it. Her body began betraying her, and on the way to the vet, she got worse quickly. She died in my arms at 8:10 Friday morning. After looking directly at me with her big green eyes, winking one of them and trying to meow. I told her I loved her, and she went. I was in pieces at this point.

That's not the worse of my reaction however, although I am not ashamed of it. She was my baby, you know. When I got to the car, holding her bed and blanket, I basically fell into the car, my legs gave way. Then my body gave up 'normal' functions for a bit. I was crying, my head felt like I was going through one of my classic migraines from high school. You know the kind? Mine are where it feels like lightening bolts are shooting from one side of my brain to the other and back again, at the speed of light. We got to our corner to turn off Highway six, and I got sick. I just opened the door while my mom was driving, and got continually sick from that corner to past Tires Plus. Yes, I vomited out my car door, just in case you didn't get the picture the first time.

I came home, and took one of my back pain medicines, and took an hour and a half nap. Then, I had to go suffer through a shift at the dungeon, pretending to be the happy, chipper associate just living to serve the annoying, mess making public. Boy, oh boy...

Ever so often though, the tears threaten. That's nothing new though. That happens a few times a month to me, at least. This evening though, right before my shower, they overcame me and I cried heavily. I held her bed, and cried. Silently, of course. Well, as silent as tears pouring from heart wrenching can be. I keep thinking I see her in a room before I turn on the light, or hear her unique eh-eh meow.

I miss her so much. That doesn't even cover the terrible hole I have. That's such a basic statement, it doesn't go nearly deep enough.

And this is on top of the continued separation from Jeff. It's wearing on me. I dream that we are laying together, during many a night. It's so vivid, that I reach for him in my half-wakening state for a second, and then realize it was a dream yet again.

I am going to take a medicine and crash into bed very soon. I need to hide in the darkness for a long time.


Are you still agreeable with your decision to keep reading, dear reader?