Saturday, February 14, 2009

Brick hitting

I've been cleaning out my files lately because, well, the top of my desk is a mess, and usually when it's that way I don't notice when a little midget wanders off with my bills or thank you notes, etc.

Plus, hooray, I can start shredding things from more than 7 years ago. (Don't worry, I recycle.) 

In the mess was Looseyfur's vet records. And I pulled them out and thought, come April, the county will send me her rabies renewal and I'll have to fill out that she is deceased. There was also her microchip tag, which I guess I should tell AVID is, for sure, burned into ashes right now, although they haven't been delivered back to Dr. Mary yet. 

But I was holding the manilla folder in my hands thinking that I didn't need her vet records any more. And suddenly I wanted my cat back. It's weird how you can get to a point in your grief where you are able to exist every day and do what you have to do. And then you see something, smell something and it makes you cry.  

My strings get pulled at things like little kids and animals. But I don't know why I can't shred them. I mean I have pictures and movies and memories of her. What difference do her health records make? Why do I want to leave them in my drawer?

I guess it makes me feel like part of her is still here. Like she' still mine. And for a moment I wondered what it would be like to drive up to Dr. Mary's and pick her up, but she's gone. I did this when my grandparents passed away in 1992. A couple months after the funeral, I dialed their phone number. I knew they were dead. But I wanted them to pick up the phone. The phone company had already reassigned the number. Life went on. I still have their address in Florida memorized. The route from the entrance into the graveyard where they are buried is etched into my mind. I know I won't see them again. 

I guess with all the homework, visitors, birthday, house stuff, etc., lately, I got so busy that I just didn't have time to bring it to the front of my mind. Then on Friday we got a card of sympathy from Dr. Mary and her staff. Now today, the vet records. 

I'm going to go read a bit of my psych chapter, so I can take the quiz tonight. We'll see if that gets my mind off of things.
 

2 comments:

Amy said...

Her memory will live on forever in your heart and your blog title. =)

Anonymous said...

I still miss - and cry for - my dog who died six years ago. I still have her vet records and canine passport, too. I'm sorry for your loss, Dana.