Ron was just crabbing at me about something in the yard, part of a landscaping project I have in mind.
This bitching and criticism in spite of the fact that he refuses to clean up his piles of junk is something we’ve talked about, many times. I told him if he doesn’t like it here, leave.
We can use toilet paper again: wahoo.
The sewer line wasn’t just clogged, it was split almost in two. The backhoe driver was nice enough to dig up a gone-by bush nearby. They saved some big stones for decorative use.
Carpenter had to cancel, his child is very sick, may be pneumonia. Scary times with all the pulmonary illnesses around for young kids. Hope she’ll be well soon.
Poor Ron worked like a dog to put together the CD shelving that I bought. It was one of the worst pieces of knock-down furniture I’ve ever seen, and I apologized, profusely. After getting the OK from Home Depot online customer service, Ron returned it, unassembled, to the Bennington store.
More grief from National Grid over their nonfunctional website. I paid the February bill over the phone. Spoke with a very professional supervisor who tried to help me. It’s been over two weeks since they reported the malfunction to their IT department on January 3.
Ryan and his crew are stripping the roof over the bedroom.
A1 phoned earlier, said they’d be dropping off equipment and hoped to get started today.
Joe the carpenter texted last evening, said he’d be over tomorrow.
If all of this happens, it’ll be a big step forward.
I haven’t found:
I have found:
With Ron’s help, got some wall decor up, .
Roofing materials arrived this morning. Ryan took home a bunch of Lizzie’s leftovers. He made a joke about the CBD chews.
Nice sunset.
Lizzie loved her home in Tiverton and the field and the yard in Mashpee. She was starting to enjoy the yard here in Williamstown.
She liked to walk in the street, which was very dangerous here.
She was curious about everyone who came to the house.
She and Ron were great pals, especially on their walks.
She was sweet-natured and loving.
Lizzie’s passing has made me angry at her former owners.
I understand why they gave her up and perhaps I’d have done the same under the circumstances.
Even so, I think it was wrong to put her through changes in the last months of her life.
It’s been a relatively temperate winter here, but colder than in Tiverton.
I miss her but not her pain or blindness or cleaning up after her or the frustration of not knowing how to end her suffering. We spared nothing except experiences that maybe would have made us feel better but which she hated: grooming, having her nails clipped.
Anger is supposedly a stage of grieving, in which case I’m on track for depression next, then acceptance.
I hope Ron is okay. We did go to bed together last night, for the first time in many months. Evidently that’s something we both missed.
I was relieved to not have to send Liz out in bitter cold this morning or to creep around, fearing to wake her up, or to put barricades up around areas where she’d try to hide, get stuck and whimper or worse, get hurt.
Lizzie’s body is in a very beautiful part of Bennington.
I hope her spirit is with her brother and the people and places she loved.
I miss her, of course.
After we got back from Bennington, Ron and I did a couple of hours of light housework before our new carpenter and his wife came to check out my list of tasks.
It’s a surprise to realize how much time we spent trying to meet Lizzie’s needs: taking her out, cooking for her, being sure she had water, treats, grooming her (a little), trying to figure out what she wanted or needed. Other things were sacrificed as a result.
No wonder I’ve been exhausted and irritable. No wonder Ron’s mental capacity deteriorated over the last year. Since Lizzie came to live with us, he stayed up until midnight, 1 am, 2 am to keep her company and take her outside.
We both are feeling guilty anyway, but it’s astounding how much we got done this afternoon without having the worry of a very elderly, fragile dog.
Then again, busy-ness might be part of the grieving process, at least for some of us.
… I’d taken the cash offer or at least negotiated.
Scheduled the closing for November 30 instead of the 29th.
Ron had given me more help with organizing and packing.
The moving company hadn’t sent an asshat for a driver.
Ron and Lizzie had stayed in the Wareham motel on the night of November 29.
Ron had been willing to part with LPs and other “junk”.
Ron hadn’t wrecked his van; that started a decline in our way of life.
We’d moved sooner when Lizzie was better.
Lizzie hadn’t been so ill.
‘Tis a fearful thing
to love what death can touch.
A fearful thing
to love, to hope, to dream, to be –
to be,
And oh, to lose.
A thing for fools, this,
And a holy thing,
a holy thing
to love.
For your life has lived in me,
your laugh once lifted me,
your word was gift to me.
To remember this brings painful joy.
‘Tis a human thing, love,
a holy thing, to love
what death has touched.
– Yehuda HaLevi
(1075 – 1141) was a Spanish Jewish physician, poet and philosopher.