FYI RIP ETFC
- Thread starter APRIL
- Start date
It will get better for sure, but for now, its really fucking weird.
That fatass was always the first to the food bowl. Now the food has been down for a couple of hours and barely touched.
That fatass was always the first to the food bowl. Now the food has been down for a couple of hours and barely touched.
Amstel
The Hoarse Whisperer
so I saw this as a pic the other day. & it resonates in lots of areas of loss.
Someone on fb posted that their 28-year-old brother just died and they didn’t know how to deal with the grief. The top comment was from an older man who writes about how to cope with death. I’ve never experienced a close friend or relative passing and it’s one of my greatest fears that will inevitably happen. What this man writes about it is beautiful and perfect so I thought I would share.
___
“Alright, here goes. I’m old. What that means is that I’ve survived (so far) and a lot of people I’ve known and loved did not. I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here’s my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gorged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.
As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”
___
“Alright, here goes. I’m old. What that means is that I’ve survived (so far) and a lot of people I’ve known and loved did not. I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here’s my two cents.
I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gorged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.
As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”
they really do have such distinct personalities. A cat is not a cat is not cat. They are who they are.
It will get better for sure, but for now, its really fucking weird.
That fatass was always the first to the food bowl. Now the food has been down for a couple of hours and barely touched.
how are the other cats? Completely uncaring as cats tend to be, or do they realize something is weird.
For the most part aloof. After Fred passed (in his favorite box), we brought his brother over to say goodbye (which even as I type it sounds retarded, trust). As he did many times, he stepped into the box because even though they were 8, he still liked to curl up with him. He put two feet in, sniffed him, seemed to know something was wrong, and got out. I think that's as close as you'll ever get to a cat saying goodbye. I'm sure he will slowly start to realize his brother is gone, as they were thick as thieves together. But maybe not. He's a cat.
[/emo homo fag]
Just kidding, Im still an emo homo fag.
Petunia
COVID POSITIVE FOREVER
Fly sheds a tear in memory of her fellow blackie.
just kidding, she just woke up, but we can pretend cats care.
just kidding, she just woke up, but we can pretend cats care.
See above. For the most part, @APRIL and I are the only ones who give a shit.
edit: I take that back. I'm sure Bane is pretty happy. Only one left for him to kill.
His brother hasn't touched his food this morning, not sure if he ate last night either.
Once Fred was gone, the vet said to bring his brother over so he can understand whats going on. Lu sniffed him a little then started to get in the box with him like he always does then his eyes got big and he jumped away. The vet was like, "he knows now."
edit: beaten by fly
Once Fred was gone, the vet said to bring his brother over so he can understand whats going on. Lu sniffed him a little then started to get in the box with him like he always does then his eyes got big and he jumped away. The vet was like, "he knows now."
edit: beaten by fly
Valve1138
I like the AB in the GB
Petunia
COVID POSITIVE FOREVER
@fly @APRIL
for some reason the forum came up chronological when i refreshed, and this was the first thread
http://www.uselessforums.com/threads/new-addition-to-our-family.8358/
"eddie" named after eddie murphy's arrival way back in 2007.... unfortunately the pics are dead.
for some reason the forum came up chronological when i refreshed, and this was the first thread
http://www.uselessforums.com/threads/new-addition-to-our-family.8358/
"eddie" named after eddie murphy's arrival way back in 2007.... unfortunately the pics are dead.
Rough. I had to put my cat down several years ago after she had a stroke, and that was brutal. I've never heard of this at home euthanasia group.
I was discussing with my mom a couple of days ago how many cats that we had growing up. We were thinking of writing a list with ages. Easily 2 dozen cats. Maybe 3.
I was discussing with my mom a couple of days ago how many cats that we had growing up. We were thinking of writing a list with ages. Easily 2 dozen cats. Maybe 3.
One or two probably got eaten by fishers, including one of my favorites Newton. He was a cool kitten/cat. He'd do this spitting thing when playing hand under the covers/chase the string game. Reminded me of a snake.
Mostly I'm talking about cats since I was born until now.
hrm, maybe we just had super long lived ones. Since i was born until now ive had. Never more than 2 at a time though.
At my parents place
Trouble = 1980-2002ish
Tigger = 1979-1994ish
Norm = 1 year somewhere in the 90s
Hoppy = 1 year somewhere in the 90s.
Squeak = 1995-2015
Fly = 2014 - present
Cup = 2014 - present
At my parents place
Trouble = 1980-2002ish
Tigger = 1979-1994ish
Norm = 1 year somewhere in the 90s
Hoppy = 1 year somewhere in the 90s.
Squeak = 1995-2015
Fly = 2014 - present
Cup = 2014 - present