Significant Memories

It is odd when someone dies, sparking memories of past. My Grandmother Betty's Sister Bonnie died a few months ago. While I've known people who manage to live after their spouse dies, I always think of a friend who raised cats in pairs to ensure they had a friend.

A busy family, Heather's Mother Nan was a Saleswoman. Every year Nan turned in her old car with an additional hundred thousand miles to get another car to drive to surrounding states and add another hundred thousand miles to the odometer. She was an excellent Saleswoman. She could sell anything, yet she spent most of her time on the road and her husband Paul was an accountant.

Similar to Heather, my parent's worked full-time; however, they were home every night. Having some problems, I understand looking for family and support when important events happen. I might have been the other cat to keep their kid company.

One day, one cats Bach disappeared. They were born from the same litter and were raised together. The remaining cat Sebastian would fidget remaining separate from the family. Expressing misery, he would lay on the floor motionless. Concerned, they wondered if Sebastian would die from loneliness. Also having pets, we were able to console the survivor. Luckily, they found Bach in the garage. It was fun watching them run happily until calming into a peaceful routine again.

A few months after Bonnie died her husband Pete died. The funeral was last weekend. I never attend funerals. At least I haven't since I was a teenager. There is an odd apprehension about the event. I was quick to anger as people shared stories and it took a long time to understand. The person who died was close to me. It appeared as though everyone had time to prepare, except, me. The funeral pointed out a lot of deficits in my life because the person who died was my biological father that I visited in the summer and sometimes for Christmas.

In any event, I won't go to funerals. I privately grieve people who died. My father Tony and my cat Purl were the only ones in the world that would be hurt when I was contemplating suicide. At least that is what I thought, only to find I did not really know him even as well as his Ex-Girlfriend's Sister. It is difficult letting go for several reasons.

Two of my grandmothers, Mary and Betty, survived several years after their husbands died. I don't think women are more apathetic than men; however, I wonder if the reason for living was replaced by being needed by someone else. People need to feel needed. When the trauma of losing their husbands passed they were able to move on with life.

Are men too reliant on their wives? The kids grew up and got jobs. They did not want to interfere and retained a respectable distance. Both of them were very old. Around ninety years old, that is a very long lifespan. Dying of old age is the most obvious reason. I am positive both Mary and Betty loved Grandpa Joe and Leland very much, regardless of spontaneous death.

Contemplating various ideas of why I feel estrange or tend to create emotional distance amongst people, it is as though being that close to someone is a cause of death. Poetic, it is still scary. I have thought for long periods of time about the significant events in life to bring about this tendency, so it can be addressed and dealt with. It is odd how a suggestion can be lodged into the mind without notice, because it just didn't seem that important.

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