Posts Tagged ‘loss’

lost another beloved friend today
my beautiful Brutus
been looking after him since he was a pup

my cousin sent me a message saying he is going to heaven today

his seizures were still happening (although they never happened with me – glad i never had to see that) and he was losing control of his legs.

she said they made the decision to let him go now, instead of waiting until he was a drooling idiot.
he was far too noble for that.
too regal
too loved

Yesterday, was a surreal and sad day.
My uncle, who has been fighting so bravely for months now, passed away.
He went down very quickly, in the space of a few hours.
I arrived, and said hello, but he was by that point, already slipping in and out.
I am hoping he registered my presence. And the presence of all those that loved him, standing around his bed.
We held his hand. Cracked jokes. Talked about the good times. Sarcasm runs deep in our family. It’s our Force.
We use it well.
Every now and then, my cousin would say “everyone who loves you is here, dad” or “keep fighting, dad” and my heart would just break.
He was so strong.
My uncle went from a giant sized figure in my life, to this pale, fragile, thin, delicate and quiet person in the bed. His skin matched the sheets, and his beard and hair were grey and soft.
There was a lot of love in that room. It was an overwhelming energy at times.
But my cousin had it right: he was surrounded by those who truly love him. Right till the end.
He went quickly, and silently, around 6:20pm.

The pain I feel can be nothing compared to what my cousin feels right now. He has spent 24/7 of the last 6 months with his dad. Taking care of him in every way imaginable. He fought so hard for him. And it was only at the last that my uncle just couldn’t fight any more. He was so tired.

My heart goes out to my cousin and his family. And to the other brothers, who were not there.

And my mom. My steadfast mom.

There was so much love in that room.

1 month away from 47 years, for my aunt and uncle.
but he just couldn’t fight anymore.

I love you Uncle B.
Rest easy. Rest in peace. Sort those angels out up there.

Coffee and cupcakes.


RIP Uncle B. Monday 24 January 2011 @ approx 18:20.
You slipped away.

Everyone gets the Monday blues. Well, everyone who works an office job, gets the Monday blues.

2 months and 21 days till I am no longer at this office job.  11 Mondays.  11 weekends.

I should add a count down widget or something. Just to help me get through without losing my marbles.



And in much sadder news – Another victim of this stupid war.

RIP Ethan H. 7 January 2011. IED. Too close to home.

Fuck you Taliban.


Goodbye my darling cat

My furry little supermodel

my ditzy dear

heartbreaking decision


but so so so heartbreaking

all the trees in heaven will be waiting for you, and all the tuna you can eat

love you

loved you

will always

(today – Monday 3 January 2011 – around 3:15)

My wee and feisty friend, Gonzo.

Little black and white Jack Russell cross with something.

You gave Cath a good long run. With her through thick and thin. You were her first child. And her most beloved.

And you were my first “dog sitting” attempt.

Luckily, you liked me, because I took you for 2 walks a day and paid as much attention to you as your mum did.

So you treated me well, and when Cath got some new family members, you put them in their place and taught them how to love me too.

I cannot even begin to explain how sad I am.

This is a deep, aching void that you create.

Not just in me, but most especially for Cath.

And it had to be her decision. Which could not have been easy.

RIP my charismatic little friend.

You will also be sorely missed.

Gonzo Deare – Saturday 11th September 2010.

Gonzo the Magnificent.

my beautiful Mishka.

my little bear.
my crazy neurotic food-obsessed border collie nutball.
my heart feels dead and heavy.
i can't even think of words.
i will miss her so much.
my shadow
my little furry shadow.
always at my side
so clever
so loyal
my amazing dog.
16 years, my little love.
Thursday 29 July 2010.
She's gone.
a stroke.
a quick end at least
she made the decision for us.
it was time.
Mishka smileMishka MishkaMishkaMishkaMishka

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This time to Fantastic Horse.

Who was, fantastic.
Tastic, as I called him… and Fred, as others called him.
So full of vigour and life – full of nonsense too.
But a big heart, and so much intelligence behind those beautiful brown eyes.
What a great and tragic loss.
Colic for the second weekend in a row.
There was nothing more that they could do for him.
A very difficult decision. But I think it was the right one.
RIP. 14 May 2010.
Farewell, Fantastic Horse.

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But no less of one.
Goodbye to little Stormy.
Our fuzzy, crazy, happy little Shetland old man.
Nearly 40 and, right up until Friday, so full of life and beans you would never know that he was so old.
My heart is so sore, my little friend.
Such a big heart. Such character. Bigger on the inside that most full sized horses are on the outside.
His spirit was huge. His nobility just as clear and present.
There will never be another like you, little man.

(RIP Saturday 1 May 2010)

You will be sorely missed.
But you get to run wild with your best friend, Alchemy, once again.


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Goodbye to Lindenberg. My namesake.
If there was ever a god of horses, he would be it.
And now he's been taken back to heaven, because they need him there.
To say he will be missed, is an understatement of epic proportions.
His noble character, gentle nature and incredible talent were bottled up in a tiny explosive package.
There will be none like him.

His progeny (and i have the honour of knowing a few of them) will hold his characteristics and carry a part of him always.

Revel in your horse, if they have even a drop of Lindenberg's blood.


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