The worst day EVER!!!
Feb. 23, 2011 1:43 pm
Updated: Oct. 10, 2012 6:40 am
Hello to all! Perhaps I should not talk about things that don't relate so much with food on here...but this kinda does have to do with food a little bit. Plus, I feel more free here than I do elsewhere. See, I read a lot about people having bad days,
not just on this site, but everywhere. I have a motto- "Never, ever say it can't get worse because you are dead wrong!"
I had a beautiful orange kitten who I named Eliot. I loved him so very much. I was 18 and pregnant and all alone except for Eliot. He was my closest friend in the world. He loved that I held him and I loved that he didn't judge me. We got along like that.
Nobody ever knew I was pregnant...nobody but Eliot. I lived at home, I went to college, I had a job...but I never gained a single pound and nobody knew until the day my beautiful daughter was born. Everything changed on that day, everything did.
When my daughter was three, I left her with my parents to go see a movie with my then boyfriend (the movie was Dogma, and I am in it!). On the way home, we drove past Eliot....smashed in the road. A very kind cop drove up as I knelt in the street, weeping
like a fool, and asked if I would like him to "scrape up my cat." I kindly declined his offer and told him I did not appreciate his crude manner. Or, I blubbered something like that in his general direction.
I was devastated. I am the youngest of three children. The only girl. My brother Nate, always an animal lover, made it a point to make me feel better. Promised to bury Eliot, but I made that old boyfriend of mine do it...he should have wanted to help me.
It is just a cat? I think not!
A couple months later, the other family cat (Jacob, but she was a girl...I named her that because I got her when I was three and I was learning about Jacob and his coat of many colors...which she had, so it made good sense to me.) died of old age. I had had
her most of my life. Nate worked 16 hours that day...he came home, hugged me and told me to hang on a minute. He went over to Jacob, cut off a lock of her her fur, put it in an envelope, handed it to me and then trudged outside to dig a hole for her. We
buried her together, and he sat in silence with me long after it got dark, long after he had reached the point of exhaustion. We sat, we listened to the insects on a warm summer night, and we thought about what that darn cat meant us.
I was in college at the time. Taking Calculus over the summer. I was so upset about this fact because I hate math (although I ended up with a Bachelor's in accounting). It was hard and I was crushed by the deaths of my two beloved pets. On a wind swept
and rainy day, I broke down on the way to my car after class. A young man whipped past me so quickly, he almost knocked me down. He stopped to make sure I was okay, and upon seeing the tears in my eyes, he put his arm on me. When I revealed that my cat
had died, he said "Oh sorry, well I have to go." Ah! Oh well, I got a good cry out on the way home.
So, I needed a break. I called up three of my best girls and we went out on the town. We had a blast, and I never looked back...money was spent, shots were taken...I was suffering, full of grief. Nothing could be worse...
I got home late...around 2:00 in the morning. I went quietly to my room. Passed out. Then the phone rang...my dad yelled at me to tell my friends to quit calling so late. So I ignored the phone until I just couldn't stand it ringing anymore...I answered...."There
are uniformed police officers trying to knock on your door...you need to answer it now." My mind started reeling...what did I do, how do I not know about it? I went downstairs and opened the door. Two men standing there, facing me, a terrified young girl.
"We need to talk to your parents."
My older brother Nate had died in his sleep at the age of 25. We didn't know why or how at the time or for months after. I was alone with my parents and my kid for several days before family swooped in. My dad became a machine and my mom became a mess.
I became the doer. I sat in my room and cried when I could. One day, I looked out my window and saw my dad sitting on the picnic table. I thought he was on the phone, but he wasn't, he was crying his eyes out...I had never seen my dad cry before.
So, when I was a kid I always wanted a dog....I begged and begged. I finally got Sophie when I was in the third grade. My brothers and I loved her from the very beginning, laying on the floor in front of the screen door just to look at her because we were
My remaining brother and I had to put Sophie down the day of our brother's viewing I remember half laughing because it was so ridiculously hard to feel that bad.
My parents could not handle that on top of it all. And neither could we. But we did.
What does this have to do with food? We got a lot of it when that happened- we had fruit coming out of our ears for a long time.
What does it have to do with life? Nothing really...just please remember that what you think is your worst day, or even your worst year, may be easily put into perspective. Please love as you want to be loved.
After we buried Jacob, Nate sat down with me on the porch for a beer. He said "I know how upset you are. But it will all be okay. And...well...you know...I do love my little sister." I wish I would have told him how much he meant to me..