Leave of Absence

Dearest blog readers (all 3 of you :) ),
The recent events in my life have left me with no creative energy. Every day I think, "I should do my blog" but then I can't think of anything I want to talk about. So, for now, I am going to sign off. When I have something worth publishing on the world wide web, I will be back.
Yours, Birdie

From my brother

As I was helping my brother remove some of the items from the brown paper bag, I came to this at the bottom. As I pulled it from the bag, he said "That is for you", and I knew that I had been given one of the most precious gifts of my life. He had made this trivet, decorated with hearts and shapes of many colors, during one of his therapy sessions while recently hospitalized. We were unpacking some of his things in the rehabilitation area of a nursing home, where he will spend the next weeks working to use a walker instead of a wheelchair and to eat a normal diet instead of the pureed food he currently needs.

My brother, one of my dearest friends and a constant support in my life, at 43 years old has recently been diagnosed with dementia. We don't know the cause nor do we know the expected progression of his symptoms. We only know that this horribly unfair diagnosis is the most recent in a life that has seen too many other trials. I have seen the effects of his illnesses: lost jobs, injuries, loss of independence. There has been a relentless cycle of seeming stability followed by the inevitable plunge into depression and loss. The most recent onset of symptoms brought him emergently to the hospital where the diagnosis of dementia was discovered. And yet, and yet.... This remarkable person, who could have many, many times before thrown in the towel, has had the courage to make the best of what he has. I have thought about the time and effort it took him to place each of the small shapes into the plaster. I grieve for the losses this life has dealt him just as I celebrate his courage. No gift could mean more to me.

Missing Jessie

This has been a hard week; we miss our little buddy. We each bought a small pendant- Jim a silver cross and me a gold heart- each with Jessie's name engraved. The pendants are special in that each holds a small amount of his ashes. Friday the vet office called to let me know Jessie's ashes had been returned to them. After work I went there for the first time since he died, not wanting to leave them there overnight. They were returned to us in a small wooden box with his name engraved on a little plate. The fur we had asked them to save for us was also there in a little baggie, and someone had made a paw print impression for us in white putty. We have printed every picture we had of him and framed a few of them. 

In there own way, each of these little things is comforting. I frequently visualize Jessie running and playing like any other little kitten. I want to believe that somehow these "visions" are from him, letting me know he is ok. In my heart, I know he is. But still I miss him and would give anything to hold him again.