Facts of Life and Death

I had a strange dream last night. In it I was chasing our guinea pig, Flash, who had somehow escaped. I remember running after him but not being quick enough as he dashed down the side of the house.

My mum and dad were around in the dream helping me out and I knew I had to rescue the tiny creature before youngest son discovered the disappearance of his much loved pet.

Along the way I did manage to capture another stray guinea pig, he stopped and stared up at me all forlorn. He was grey and white with a slightly dishevelled look about him – I named him Spike (I’ve watched Notting Hill this week and I think that’s where the name came from!) Then I found a very tiny white bundle of fluff – another guinea pig perhaps although later it transformed into a bloated and plucked dead chicken sort of thing!

Eventually I caught Flash reaching up to the window ledge in an effort to get out of the window – wasn’t he just outside, how did we all end up indoors – oh yes this was a dream and these sorts of things can happen in dreams.

Then we were standing at the top of the stairs and as mum opened a wooden box/cage sort of thing to put the guinea pig in a pile of brightly coloured buttons tumbled out.

“I wondered where they had gone!” She said, while I was more concerned that we remove the dead chicken/thing before adding Flash in with his new friend Spike!

Then I woke up!

I blame my weird dream on listening to the radio yesterday; there was a phone-in about other people’s pets dying while you were looking after them.

The listeners who phoned in told some hilarious stories. There was the man who caught an escaped gerbil but then threw it onto the floor to its untimely death when it bit him and the woman who put her neighbour’s dead cat in the freezer to preserve it while they were away on holiday. “We recently bought a chest freezer because my husband is into roadkill" she announced and it had me in hysterics. I was trying to write yesterday’s blog post at the time and I really needed the giggle!

It has happened to us, not the putting a pet in the freezer bit, but we were looking after our friends’ guinea pigs last Christmas when one died. Was it perhaps a bit too cold and freezer like in our porch in mid-December? However this particular guinea pig had always been a sickly looking thing and to be truthful even my friends weren’t expecting it to last long…it would have be nice if it had lived a day or two longer though!

Then around Easter time my mother-in-law was looking after our two guinea pigs when Fluffy died. She wrapped him up in newspaper, a carrier bag and then popped him in a tin for good measure, which I think she may have taped up, to stop anything getting at him while he sat in the garage awaiting our return.

I unwrapped the many layers and placed him in a shoebox coffin for the funeral – shoe boxes are such a perfect fit for a guinea pig.

Our remaining guinea pig, Flash, survived the loss of his brother and had been doing very nicely earlier in the summer, darting about the run in the sunshine, eating dandelions. However as the summer holidays drew to an end so Flash lost some of his perkiness.

My friend and her family looked after him while we went away on our last holiday excursion.

“He’s a bit off his food.” She said when we got back.

“I noticed that.” I said but I didn’t know what I could do.

Then their family rabbit got sick and my friend spent a small fortune at the vet.

“That much - on a rabbit?!”

I wondered if I was cruel and heartless or just practical but their rabbit picked up a bit, meanwhile our guinea pig seemed to be getting more and more withdrawn and lethargic.

But the rabbit took a sudden turn for the worse, he died on the Wednesday and by Friday morning our guinea pig had gone too – so we had a double funeral. Part of me rejoiced - there was no longer a dilemma about taking Flash to the vets and it saved me having to dig the grave – maybe I am cruel and heartless after all? At least this time round the pets died on home ground!

I read some of the follow up comments from the radio phone-in. Although lots of people had laughed at the stories some were unimpressed by the flippant tone.

I know pets are important and much loved members of the family but to be honest I’ve never been excessively upset when one of my pets has died. It’s all part of life and death, nothing lives forever.

RIP Flash

My boys might have been sad for a while over the loss of Cuggle, Snowy, Tardis, Fluffy and Flash the five guinea pigs they have known and loved in their short lives, (although not always cared for – why is it always mum’s job to clean them out?) but there is no comparison to what they lost when their dad died. 

Anyway I’ve decided there will be no more pets for us…

…only the ones in my dreams.

I just hope I don’t ever really find a cute grey and white guinea pig staring up at me because I already know he’s called Spike and I won’t be able to resist the urge to bring him home and care for him!

Far Better than a Funeral

How many times have you been to a funeral and said or heard the following?

                It’s been lovely to see you again 

                                     – pity it’s under these circumstances.

We really should meet up more often.

          _______ would have really enjoyed this!

    It’s such a shame we don’t make the effort to all get together.

Life goes through many stages. In our school days there are lots of birthday parties with jelly and ice cream. They make way for teenage discos usually followed by a spate of weddings. Costly affairs with detailed planning months in advance.

Eventually, in families or friendship groups, everyone we know is paired up and grown up with families of their own. The get-togethers become fewer and far between.  Real life just gets in the way.

Until we reach an age when our social calendar is dotted with funerals. They inevitably come at short notice and although sad occasions there is often a lot of joy at meeting up with old friends and family.

Now my mother has always been someone who loves getting the family together. She and my dad make an effort each year to hold what they call “The AGM”, an annual meeting of dad’s brothers and sisters. Petty differences are set aside and they have an enjoyable afternoon together catching up on the family gossip.

It’s far rarer to get my mum’s side of the family together but last weekend was a great exception.

My aunt and uncle, who emigrated to New Zealand when I was five, are currently in the UK for a visit. For a long time my nana who is 85 has wanted to meet up again with her only living sister who is 91.

Probably the real catalyst to our gathering was the untimely deaths we have experienced lately. My great aunt lost a daughter from breast cancer a couple of years ago while my nana lost her son to bowel cancer. I think we’ve all been made aware how precious life is and this was a good opportunity to meet up for something other than a funeral and celebrate.

The last time I remember seeing my great aunt was when I was 16, and that’s too many years ago to count!

Tonight Dallas is back on our TV screens for the first time in over 20 years. Family dramas don’t get any more glitzier but times have moved on and now we are going to find out what happens to the next generation of Ewings.

But every family has stories, real stories. My mum dug out the old photos and as the two sisters reminisced we learned more about our family in one afternoon than we already knew in a lifetime.

My generation got to establish our own roots as I got to catch up with my brother and cousin. Meanwhile our own children played together making new memories.

Here’s a new photo to add to the family album, a photo we can all share so easily in this digital age.

 

It is a photo of two sisters with their daughters, their nephews and my nana’s three grandchildren. All of us sharing microscopic strands of DNA that link us together and make us blood related.

However it is sharing our time together, our common memories, that makes us a family and in my mind a very special one.

When we next meet, in whatever circumstance, in tears or celebration, we will fondly look back and remember our happy day.

Hanging on by a thread

Well after writing something hopeful on Thursday morning I kind of crashed again yesterday.

On Thursday afternoon I went to the first funeral since Andrew’s last year.  I generally make it a policy not to name people on my blog but I’m going to make an exception with Vic.  He was a husband, father of four, grandfather and great grandfather and also a great friend to many.

He died at the age of 83 and had been ill for several years steadily deteriorating in the last few months.   Vic was a gifted speaker and leader in the church as well as holding down a full time job in the probation service.  I will always remember his sparkling eyes and ready wit.  Those sparkling eyes remained even when his speech deserted him, it was through his eyes he communicated.  I saw him a few days after Andrew died and Vic’s blue eyes held so much compassion; he didn’t need words to express his heartfelt sympathy.

His funeral was held in one of the local Methodist churches and the last time I had been to a service there it was Andrew’s dad’s funeral, Vic was leading it! 

It’s no wonder so many emotions were churned up as I embraced another widow and keenly knew her pain.

Maybe this post should be back in unravelling-edges but today I wanted to revisit my Goldilocks poem which I wrote a year ago. 

 

Sometimes my grief seems so much more painful now.  Yesterday I was aware of its black tentacles clasping me tight, tears came welling up and were squeezed out.  I felt suffocated, debilitated and overwhelmingly depressed.

I thought turning the calendar over to December would help, just as earlier in the year I thought a much needed holiday would be the answer.  The truth is I will never completely recover from this and I didn’t believe that a year ago, even six months ago. I thought one day I will get over this tragedy.  Now I know I just have to learn to live with it.

However much I want to write about the gloom and doom, the words were running through my head all day yesterday, there is always a bright spark.  Writing really does bring out the best of me.  In the end I guess it matters very little who reads this it’s given me an amazing focus and helps far more than the anti-depressants.

This morning’s hope came as I was driving oldest son to tennis.  There appeared to be a smudge in the sky, almost like the vapour trail from an aeroplane but the line was too curved and came straight up from the ground.  Not the usual trajectory for an aircraft.

As I stared it became clearer.  It was a faint rainbow almost imperceptible against the bright blue sky.  There were so few raindrops on the windscreen it didn’t even warrant the wipers going on.

I turned the corner and the arc became brighter, sweeping across the entire sky.  The watery colours getting brighter.

I’ve written about rainbows before so many times and they never cease to amaze me and give me hope.   

Sometimes there is nothing new to write about you just have to hold on to what you know is true and what you know has been there all along.

That little spark of hope, that thin thread of truth, the joy of a smile and glint of understanding in someone’s eye.

I hope you find yours today.  Why not tell me about it and we can hold on to it together…