Sunday, 16 June 2013

This week

This week I still miss my cats.  My Dana and my Charlie.  My cuddles.

This week showed me that even during a depression, I can force my brain to create.  It is forced, though and I can sense that it is very shallow. 

This week was a week of letting go - of control over a project, of some of the loss, of dreams of how I expected my new cats to behave.

This week had some moments so low that life seemed pointless and some moments that were simply relaxing and warm.

This week made me value my friends.

This week taught me that I can get affection from many different places, smaller doses, but maybe enough to get by.  And yes, I am talking about the cats and kittens at The Cat Corner.

This week brought many new sparkly things into play.

This week I learnt that letting go of control over my daughter's life, partly in order to teach her independence, doesn't work when she is not self motivated. 

This week I danced in sadness, danced to express anger and danced with joy.

This week... I'm still a mess, a grieving woman seeking to find a way to fill the emptiness, living on a rollercoaster where sometimes I can see that it will be okay and others I am sunk deep in the fear that I will never dance in the sunshine again.

This week, hubby and daughter gave me extra cuddles, extra attention and extra support.  Hubby even put on my favourite music when we went driving today.  Then made me cry by explaining how a particular song reminded him of Dana-cat.

"Little light... shining
Little light... guide them, to me.
My face is all lit up,
my face is all lit up"

This week was full of amazing people whom make the world a better place. 

This week.  Is nearly over. 
Next week is full of potential.  It's up to me to make it awesome.


  1. I'm am sure the coming weeks will only get better.

  2. You poor darling... I know how you feel and of course, this to shall pass. Time makes the grief dimmer. I am writing from experience and nor just fluffing.
    Take care and dance on.... xo

    1. Thanks, Lydia.
      In some ways I don't want the pain to lessen. Every time it does, it's taking me further and further away from them.
      But it will and it will be okay.