Gratitude

Today is November 1.  If you are a Catholic, it's All Saints' Day.  In Mexican culture, they celebrate Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead, which coincides with All Saints' Day and All Souls Day, which is tomorrow. It's also the day that retailers go nuts and Christmas trees and wreaths and jingle bells appear everywhere you turn.  I'm not particularly fond of rushing the holidays.  Let me enjoy my turkey and gravy and all that jazz first.  Then bring on the mass consumerism.

So, up there is Miss Violet.  This picture was taken last Thursday after I finally got her to eat.  She is feeling much better and is back to her old self.  She follows me into the bathroom to get petted and it may sound weird, but it's one of the things I love most about her.  She has gotten incredibly hip to the whole pilling procedure and she now knows that when my husband comes home, it's pill time.  She hides.  So, I would personally like to thank the inventor of the "Pill Pocket."  Violet is none the wiser since I started using these ingenious little treats.  Once she's off the steroids, I plan to find a new vet.  I'm not going to give up on her just because she has heartworms.  If any cat can beat this diagnosis, I think she can.  She's been through a lot and she's got spunk.

So, why did I title this post gratitude?  Well, for one, I am really grateful that Violet made it through.  Just because I call myself the death writer does not mean that I'm totally cool with loss.  Quite the opposite.  I'm also grateful to the people who reached out to Sonya Reed this past week.  You have no idea how big of an impact your letters made.  Thank you sooooooo much.  Seriously.

Well, my kids raked in the candy last night.  One house gave each kid a full size Reese's Peanut butter cup and I'm not talking the one with two.  This was truly full size and contained six. I am going to try and contain myself.  Won't be easy.

Last but not least, I am grateful to my readers.  I know that not all of you comment, but I know you're there and I appreciate you stopping by.

Till next time!

Tuesday Movie: The Shining

Since tomorrow is Halloween, today's movie recommendation is a scary classic.  Good old Jack Torrance is a writer with a serious case of writing block.  I can relate.

The Shining came out in 1980 and was directed by Stanley Kubrick.  Jack Nicholson and Shelly Duvall star as Jack and Wendy.  Poor, poor Wendy.  I think the scene where she's wielding a baseball bat and Jack is following her up the stairs and tormenting her is one of the most terrifying moments of the film.  The blood, the creepy lady in the bathtub, the twins?  Eh, not so much.

Here's a recut version of the trailer to make you smile.  So, what candy treats will you be handing out or stealing from your kid's trick-or-treat bag?  

Monday Mournings - The Death of a Father

Since I didn't have anyone else for today's post, I asked my husband if he'd answer my questions. He is not a writer, so I just transcribed what he said. I know this death affected him a lot.

DW: Who was the person that died? ES: My dad.
DW: How old were you at the time? ES: I was fifteen.

DW: How old was your Dad? ES: He was fifty-one.
DW: Was it a sudden death or did you know it was going to happen? ES: We knew it was going to happen. The doctor gave him a couple of months to live. He had cancerous tumors throughout his whole body. He ended up living for about eight months.

DW: Did you and your Dad talk about his death? ES: We did, but it was basically, "I'm not going to live much longer." And that was it.

DW: Had you experienced any other deaths in your personal life before your Dad died? ES: My grandmother, my dad's mom, died a few days before he did. He traveled from Texas to North Dakota for her funeral and that's where he died.

DW: Were people supportive of your grief or did they shy away when you were grieving? ES: Yes, friends and family were supportive.
DW: Is there anything you wish you'd done differently with this person? ES: No. We spent a lot of time together towards the end. He took me fishing almost every weekend, even though he wasn't supposed to be out in the sun.

DW: Was he buried or cremated? ES: Buried. He had a military burial.

DW: Did you learn anything about the grieving process that you'd like to share? ES: Grief never ends. I'll see people my age who still have parents that are alive and it makes me wonder what my life would be like if he were still here.

DW: Were any songs played at the memorial that were important to your Dad? ES: No songs were played. Although Taps was played by bagpipes at his service. My sister Karen, said that he liked the song "Mr. Bojangles," so this goes out to Ron.