Easter Sunday was spent with friends and their family. We had a wonderful dinner of ham with 2 types of glazes and many wonderful side dishes. The day was just perfect temperature-wise for sitting out on the patio with a glass of wine. We had been invited to a barbecue at a new friend’s home in our hometown. This was more of a party that was in full swing when we arrived. I’ve never seen so many shots of tequila downed. My friend was the perfect hostess. She offered us more food than we could possibly eat. Hubby immediately went over to where the men were sitting and stayed there the rest of the evening.
At one table I noticed a young woman downing many a shot of tequila. The more she drank the louder she got. My friend told me she was here visiting from out of the country and was letting her hair down. I’ll say. Awhile later I was beckoned by my friend over to the table where La Borracha (drunk) was sitting and hesitantly made my way over. I knew it would be only a matter of time before it was pointed out that I didn’t look quite like the rest in attendance there. What’s so dumb is that just because La Borracha didn’t speak English she was too drunk to realize that I understand Spanish. Nothing like being singled out for looking different from the crowd. I didn’t think it was time to get into my family history here. What was kind of funny is that when I was speaking to her in Spanish she still didn’t seem to get that I could understand her. I ran into my friend yesterday and she actually told me that La Borracha had actually asked if I might be able to help her with her English. I said, sure. The first lesson is on AA. It’s a 12-step program. . .
All in all though, it was a great party. Hubby enjoyed himself. I ended up talking to a girl from Nicaragua who I have the impression may have been a mail-order bride but I’m not sure. There was a show on TV awhile ago on how these older guys take these trips to South America to find a wife. Her husband could have been a shoe-in for that but I didn’t want to ask anymore. She was such a pleasant person and very happy to be here. We exchanged numbers so I hope we’ll stay in touch.
Grief-wise I’m doing okay. I’ve gotten myself back to the gym and have recommitted myself back to healthy eating. We did splurge on some most wonderful fried fish tacos Friday night. Oh! They were so good.
Today seem to be more difficult for some reason. I find myself first thing in the morning talking to an empty cage and telling Monsoon how much I miss her. For the most part I have pulled myself up by the bootstraps but there are still some moments when it feels like lightning has struck my chest. It moves in waves and I can’t help but think of the weather map before a storm when there are these rows of green bands moving through the sky towards the city. One by one they come. And I can throw myself into my work or into the gym all I want. I know that this is just going to take time. Thank God the grief goes away in time. I don’t think I’d ever share my life with another animal if I had remembrance of that all the time.
I’ve had wonderful support from both friends here and family and friends elsewhere but there is no one that can live the grief for you. It is a solitary journey. Hubby has been supportive for the most part but I don’t think he feels at all what I feel; that sense of loss. My boss, too, bless him, had been wonderful while Monsoon was sick. He’d come in every morning and pull up a chair for an update. He’d offer a word of encouragement and hope that she would pull through. The Monday after she passed though he stayed in his office and I stayed in mine. We haven’t talked anymore about it. Men just handle these things so differently.
We went to the Humane Society adoption center over the weekend. While there were some adorable pooches there, I didn’t feel the remotest connection with any of them. I sat down late last week with Hubby and talked about his concerns with our getting another ferret. He didn’t like the fact that she would get into his things (which really he shouldn’t have left around) and that one time he walked into our bedroom and stepped in some poop. She had an accident and they were quite frequent the last few months before she passed due to her not being able to get in the litter box. But again, I explained to him, she was ill. I asked if we could work out some kind of a compromise and to think about it before answering. We’ll see. I find myself getting irritable easily with hubby or at work but when speaking with a client who is driving me batty, I’ll respond sweetly with a smile in my voice but in my head I’m thinking, I don’t effing know (or care)!
But I’ve been down this road before and its true when they say, this too shall pass.
I dreamt last night that hubby was outside cooking on the grill. We weren’t at our house as it was very green and we were standing under a covered porch. I stood next to hubby while he chatted away when I noticed a small yellow canvas bag closed with a drawstring hanging from a nail on the porch roof. A tiny ferret foot could be seen pressed against the inside of the bag. I knew I shouldn’t be looking at it. I kept trying to distract myself and tried harder to pay attention to what Hubby was doing. He didn’t seem to notice (typical). There was such a foreboding feeling and I had to force myself not to look at it. Then I woke up. What the hell was that about???