We lost our sweet rescued cat, Murphy, this week. The boys and I came home and he was in distress — screaming, crying, no use of back legs. He died of a heart attack as we rushed him to vet. We were stunned.
We’ve had, as I’ve said on this blog REPEATEDLY, the crappiest year of all time. I refer to it as #suckfest2013.
My husband took boys home. My sister and nephew, thank god, came and got me and drove me home. I couldn’t do it. It was Murphy, and Daddy, and my pain of my knee issues, and illness, and, and, and, and. I think I went into some sort of vortex of despair.
I got home…settled down. Boys began playing. My mom came over….we all missed Murphy.
I just sat there. Sat. Stared. And felt worn out.
My boys were sad, but they went on about iPads and Xbox and life.
Oddly, I thought about a rubber band.
We are all rubber bands. (Stay with me here……)
My boys are young…and while is was traumatic, their rubber bands snapped right back into normal. Still new, fresh, good. Still stretchy. Still ability to recover and be good as new. They are still sad, but the snapped back. Good as new…..their rubber bands are resilient.
My rubber band? Pulled to many times this year. Pulled. Stretched. To the breaking point. Then snapped back – violently. My rubber band is falling apart. Not keeping it’s shape. It’s worn and broken. It has weak spots that could break. It has lost it’s elasticity. It has been pulled more than it can handle. It looks rough, friends. Like it was put around a pile of mail that was WAY too big.
My rubber band sucks. Plain and simple. Sucks. I was dreaming about it last night. A rubberband being pulled to the limits.
I felt like crap yesterday — and it isn’t just my sweet Murphy, it’s all of it. I was all out of pull.
As I’m struggling, I realized — the rubber band hasn’t broken…yet. It’s hanging on, by a tiny piece. That tiny hold is the strong part, which is a tenth of my rubber band. The rest of it is ruined…but my little tenth? Taking it for the team.
Please, Little Tenth of my Rubber band, keep holding on. We have to try…not matter what. But also, Universe, leave my damn rubber band alone….for just a while.
Love, Missing my Sweet Murphy and Hoping not to Break this Rubber band