Sunday, September 18, 2016

We Saw A Bear!

Several weeks ago, a friend and I went to Glacier National Park.  Our intention was to see a meteor shower at Logan Pass.  If you don't know, Logan Pass is the highest point on Going To The Sun Road.  On the way up, we were pretty much the only car heading to the "Pass",  That meant we could take our time.  Take lots of pictures.  Enjoy the views.  We came around a bend, and there it was in the road.  A black bear. On one side was a cliff wall.  On the other side the wall that keeps cars from plunging down a steep incline.  A really steep incline.  Before my camera could focus, the bear was gone.  My friend got a blurry picture of a big, fluffy, round thing going over the short wall.  We were so excited!  We high-fived each other.  Our mantra for the rest of our time in Glacier that night was "we saw a bear!".

I Saw A Bear!!

This morning on my way to work I hit something in the road.  It was dark and rainy, but I could tell it wasn't a deer.  I turned around, pulled to the side of the road, got out of my jeep, and I saw a bear.  I had hit a bear.  I started crying.  I hung my head in shame at killing another living being.  

Some other motorists had stopped along the road too.  They walked up to me, and asked if I was okay.  One of them had hit the bear also.  They asked if it was still alive.  I told them its intestines were hanging out.  

I could see the bears glow-in-the-dark-eyes.  I saw the puddle of blood. I cried.  I told them I couldn't believe I took the life of another living being.  They grabbed the bear and threw it in the ditch on the other side of the road.  Like it was a sack of garbage.  Like it was nothing.  Like it hadn't been alive.  Like it didn't matter.

I cried all of the way to work.  I was shaking.  I was sad.  I'm crying now. The bear did matter.

No, no, nah, nope I'm not getting soft in my old age.  I am admittedly an Empath.  There are times I really have to concentrate on not thinking of things going on, because I can feel the pain and suffering of other living beings.  I cry when I see a dead deer on the road.  A dead anything on the road.  An injured anything, anywhere.  I cry.  Then I force myself to not think, not see. But for now, I can't unsee, because I saw a bear.

Monday, September 5, 2016

Is Suicide Painless?

For the first time in my mumblemumble years, I have been touched by someone I know committing suicide.  Wow!  The news of it just sucks the air right out of you. Literally! 

I knew Will.I.Am, as I called him, from our working together.  I liked our conversations.  In his short life he had done so much.  He was an Air Force vet that had a job that kind of put his finger on the button, and a gun on his hip for anyone that tried to push it.  I thought that was quite a responsibility for a teenager to have.  After his discharge, he enlisted in the Army reserve, and went back to boot camp.  He was a combat medic.  An EMT. He was a really great person. One of the good guys.

Will wanted to be a cop.  We talked about police work a lot.  He loved the ride-a-longs he had gone `on.  He had thought of applying for a dispatch job, to get his foot in the door.  He really wanted to be a cop.  I told him of my years working for police departments.

Will had a beautiful German Shepherd dog named Ruger.  I told him that Ruger was going to be my puppy's daddy.  He laughed.  Will's family raised and trained German Shepherds.  He knew the breed.  We talked of my love of the breed.

I found out about Will's death on FaceBook, when a mutual former co-worker posted about his funeral.  It would be the only way for me to find out, because that is the only way I communicate with the people I used to work with at that job.  A while back I had thought about sending Will a friend request.  I talked myself out of it, because I figured Will wouldn't want a friend that was mumblemumble years old.  I think I would have been wrong.

I can't wrap my head around Will's taking his own life.  I don't get it.  But then, I don't know what Will was going through.  I did look at Will's FB page.  There are no condolences from anyone.  None of his friends have posted that they miss him.  None of his friends have asked him why.  What I did see was a video post from America's Got Talent for a cover of the Radiohead song "Creep".  Makes me wonder if Will saw himself that way.  As a creep and a weirdo.

Since I learned of Will's death.  I see him everywhere!  In every face!  In everything!  Out of the corner of my eye.  That isn't the sun coming up.  It's Will.I.Am

To answer my original question.  Nah, nope, no, no, suicide is not painless.  Not for those left behind. Rest in Heaven Will.  Free from whatever made you not see that tomorrow would be another day.  Maybe a better day. 

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Within the last few years, I have developed what I call a "Sadness Quotient". Simply defined as the amount of sadness, bad news, blah I allow myself to be exposed to.  The last couple of days when I get out of bed, my quotient for the day has already been reached.  There is so much sadness, meanness, wrongness, badness in the world. What the fuck is wrong with people?  I don't have the answer.   Blah!

Sunday, March 27, 2016

I mourn for my Father

Not true.  I just thought is was a catchy post title.  I like the sound of it.  When I say it in my head it sounds sullen and deep.  I say it in a voice that sounds like the deep voiced announcer of movies years ago.

My Dad did pass away on February 26th, 2016.  He had been put in hospice about 10 days before his passing.  I was on my way "home" to see him, one last time.  We were told to get there sooner than later.  The cat, BooDuh, and I were driving through Forsyth, MT when my sister called.  She told me to "pull over."  I knew.  I didn't need to pull over, I just knew.  I did pull over, because the words needed to be said, the questions needed to be asked.  My mind needed to know the finality.  I sobbed, for a bit, then pulled back on the highway.

I had talked to Dad the Monday before he passed.  It was one of the more coherent conversations we had had in a long while.  "Hello daughter," he boomed!  "Hi Dad, I'm coming to see you," I told him. He had no concept of what I was telling him.  He asked the always asked question, "Where you at?" The answer was always "in Montana".  "Oh."  I told him I loved him.  He told me he loved me.  The conversation was over.

I have yet to mourn the passing of my Dad.  I cry sometimes at memories.  I cry sometimes because he is gone.  Just like with my Mom's passing almost five years ago, there have been a lot of firsts. This is my first Easter without a Dad.  Without a Mom and Dad.  As an orphan, in Montana.

I talked to my sister, Betty, about not mourning Dad's passing.  I told her I wondered if it was because I have been mourning his loss for quite sometime.  Dad had alzheimers.  I had been told a few weeks prior that his alzheimers had advanced.  He had been going away for a couple of years, slowly.  Slow enough that I watched from the sidelines, unable to do anything.  Slow enough that it could be seen and heard.  And mourned.

I know one of these days I will have a good cry over the passing of my Dad.  I know I need to. I need to cry. I need to let out the pain in my heart.  I need to.  But, not today.  Not yet. Not today.

(As a side note, when I spell alzheimers I get a squiggly red line indicating the word is spelled wrong. The only spelling error is that it it is not capitalized.  The disease in my opinion is not worthy of a capital a.)