Over in Marriage I wrote about how this year has been one blow after the other and I feel like I’m living under a black cloud. A string of them to be exact. No sooner does one pass than another one moves in and pours on me some more. I don’t even get a chance to fully dry off.
I’ve been trying to cope as well as I can, but I have to be honest. My defenses are wearing down.
Yesterday I got another blow. My dad’s girlfriend called to say she was at St. Anthony’s with my dad. He was undergoing a sort of emergency defibrillator replacement surgery.
All I heard was “Your dad’s in St. Anthony’s” and I sort of blocked the rest out. I had to ask her to repeat herself a few times. I could hear her voice, but the words were making no sense to me.
Well, some were. “Near death,” “not doing too well,” “been having trouble walking,” and “sleeping all the time for the last two weeks” made sense to me.
Apparently his heart’s weakening and his current defibrillator’s not strong enough. He got a more powerful model put in. It’s supposed to help, but the doctor also cautioned: “He’s getting older, his body’s losing the fight, there’s only going to be so much more we can do before we’ve done all we can.”
Wow. I’m still mourning my mom. But potentially losing my dad only months later? No. That just seems brutally cruel.
I know that happens sometimes with couples who have been married a long time. But as I wrote about in another blog, my mom and dad have been divorced almost 30 years. It wouldn’t be a matter of him dying of heartbreak at being separated from her.
So here I am fighting the blues once again. Tabby’s been curled on my lap as much as possible using her special powers to try and comfort me. When she’s not by me, Mr. Meow is, loving me in the funny ways he does
And then there’s Murph. If the cats are on my lap, he’s somewhere near my side. Constantly.
It was while I was laying in bed petting Murph after my shower this morning that I realized maybe I’m not looking at any of this the right way. Murph’s arguably had just as bad a black cloud kind of year as I have. Maybe worse.
When my mom moved in with us, there went our long, leisurely walks. When she passed it was summer, when the weather’s not conducive to long, leisurely walks. Then Wayne and I went on vacation and that’s when Murph got hurt and needed surgery.
Out of the last 12 months, he’s really only been able to walk “normally” for three and a half of them. He’s still got a couple more left before we’ll be able to even start back on mini-walks with him.
But except for Cast Off Day that turned out not to be what we expected and left Murph a little blue afterwards, Murph’s been a champ about it all. Why?
- Even though we didn’t walk when my mom was here, we still spent a lot of time outside in the back yard. My mom and I would sit on the deck; Murph would contentedly sunbake on the lawn.
- When my mom was alive, he had another set of hands always eager to pet him.
- He’s gotten a windfall of sympathy toys thanks to his injury and has been happily playing with them all as best he can.
- We’ve given in and let him claim the couch because we feel sorry for him and think he looks so cute all stretched out on it.
- There’s been a lot more Murphy cuddle time around here, like longer good night kisses and lingering wake up snuggles.
What it boils down to is Murph appreciates all the good that’s come from the bad. Instead of mourning all the changes, he’s embraced them.
Same with the cats. I think back about how they once weren’t even nice to each other. Nowadays we never know what kind of mischief they’ll get into.
I think that’s their secret for coping when bad times hit. They ignore the bad stuff and focus on all the blessings that are brought –-because there are always blessings to be found.
Courtney Mroch writes about animals great and small in Pets and the harmony and strife that encompasses married life in Marriage. For a full listing of her articles click here.