Fashion Stories & Dirty Laundry

(a entry on fashion has been moved to the back of the closet this month)

I really don’t want to write today. I want to curl up with a 3rd cup of coffee under snuggly blankets and watch completely mindless TV shows or some odd cartel documentary from 2015. I want to distract myself from the task of formulating feelings in my mind that will transfer to my hands and type all the uncomfortable sadness into potential sensicle words. And this is exactly why I must write today.

One week ago, February 14th, my son and I had to put down our beloved cat, Gandalf the Grey. It was excruciating. I’d never been forced to make an euthanasia choice in all my 5+ decades. It is not for the faint-hearted, but only for the strong, brave, and those with a decisive heart more of love than a selfish human need of ‘more time’.

February has changed. Forever.

My son and I were in agreement regarding Feburary 14 as we couldn’t do ‘Friday the 13th’. That date reminds me of Halloween movies, an ominous and weird memory for Gandalf — and worse, perhaps an insult to our faith. I must believe that St. Francis Assisi, the patron saint of the animals, also God’s dear creatures, would agree.

We couldn’t wait for Feburary 15th or later as she was starting to suffer more by the hour. I waited for my son to come back from college again, and there it is. It must be the 14th.

February has always been the ‘wanna-be’ holiday if you will. Christmas and Hannukah take precedent in December, then New Year’s Eve, then what? We usually wait for “Valentine’s Day”.

It competes commercially for gifts, candy, and flowers, but with lesser impact. I’ve bought into it, I’ve loved years of long-stemmed roses delivered. Fancy dinner reservations. I’ve indulged in it. Champagne dinners, cute and lovey cards, gifts, etc. We’ve all bought into it as one time or another.

But now it’s forever changed.

Perhaps that’s a good thing. They say, where grief is, it’s evidence of deep love. I agree now more than ever.

Gandalf has also joined the month where my Dad passed. He died Febuary 21st, 2019. So we now have 2 death anniversaries to reflect on, mourn, and keep the good memories alive.

Like Gandalf, my Dad was fun. He was always up for fun, a visit, a social visit, a walk on the beach, a good time. My Dad had stories AND created stories. He wasn’t a spectator in life – he was a participant. He was so funny, they say that is where I get my good sense of humor and my awesome classic rock tastes. I see my son rolling his eyes, but he knows. Deep down, he agrees. He also knows I went to Eric Clapton 3rd row at age 20. He knows how cool my Dad was.

My Dad never had a mid-life crisis because I don’t think he ever grew up. And not in the immature sense, he could fly a 747, land a jet on an aircraft carrier, and fix just about anything.

You don’t realize how smart, talented, deep, funny or faithful your parents are often until you have your own children. And you see how hard it is!

My father drove me to 4:30 AM swim practice even in the snow. He filmed most of my big races and kept doing so. Even though I often didn’t review them or even watch much. He just kept doing it. My friends adored him, we had the best parties, and he was always up for a good movie. Funny thing is, Gandalf was too. She watched shows with us all the time.

One beautiful memory is a Memorial Day weekend, when my father came to visit us in Los Angeles. We put on a pot of coffee and watched our favorite war films ALL DAY: Battle of Britain, Saving Private Ryan, etc. It was glorious. My Dad introduced me to some of the greats: The Deer Hunter, Serpico, Dog Day Afternoon, The Godfather, and so many others. Eventually I shared these and watched with my son.

So there it is. February 14th, February 21st, these dates are now encapsulated with love, grief, memories, sadness, joy, and laughs. Not a St. Valentine’s or a month of #heartlove #Godiva love. Nor will I ever really care if I get roses again.

And after much tears and exhale, I know that is okay. Love, C

~Fittingly…today’s Oswald Chambers February 21st entry starts:

“If what we call love doesn’t take us beyond ourselves, it is not really love. If we have the idea that love is characterized as cautious, wise, sensible, shrewd, and never taken to extremes, we have missed the true meaning. This may describe affection and it may bring us a warm feeling, but it is not a true and accurate description of love.”