I wrote the below post a fortnight ago.
I couldn’t publish it,
as the REAL words would not come out.
They were/are stuck.
I am rudderless at the moment.
Adrift on an ocean,
that has nothing but more sea on the horizon.
There are no clouds in the sky and the brightness is headache-inducing.
I am in a sea vessel that has no sails,
nor a rudder.
I am floating and I have no idea where I am going.
Psychiatrist, “Writing a blog about everything that happens to you,
will honestly help you”
John Watson, “Nothing happens to me”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Do you know who you love without question?
Is there a person or persons in your life, who you love so much that you can’t actually express it?
When I had to euthenase Horatio last Friday,
I wasn’t prepared for what was to come.
I didn’t realise that I had never truly grieved for the death of someone before now.
And I’ve been to plenty of funerals,
and lost a number of ‘loved ones’.
My brother committed suicide when I was 28 (he was 26).
All of my grandparents are dead,
and I was even a pallbearer at my Oupa’s (G.Father) funeral.
My best friend’s grandmother who I knew well.
A child who I had baby sat for years who died of leukaemia.
The adult son of my closest friend here in Busselton.
And I realised this past weekend that I didn’t grieve for any of them.
I didn’t feel any pain at their passing,
or at the thought of never seeing them again.
Their deaths – didn’t touch me.
But Horatio’s did.
On Tuesday I had the opportunity to attend a free seminar in Perth,
about building a strong and powerful business in today’s Social Media Age.
I drove up the night before
– it’s 250 kms from my town –
and stayed at my Mum’s unit in South Perth.
(Which is a drama all in itself!)
The next morning I rose at 6:30,
got ready and then walked 3 or so kilometres
to the ferry jetty.
When I came over one of the hills in my walk to the jetty
the above sight greeted me.
It was so calm and peaceful,
and it instantly made me wonder
just how many beautiful elements in our days
All the amazing and lovely images that our eyes scan
but discard as unimportant
simply because we see them each day.
And it made me think of Horatio.
I named Horatio when I met him the first day at just 9 days old.
He was the runt of the litter,
yet he was the first to open his eyes, move away from the mother and explore his surroundings.
He just did his own thing.
I know it’s a dodgy photo,
but too bad!