I haven't had anything to say for a week now. Sunday we had our first nearly normal day for a very long time. There simply isn't much to say about the past week. We were traumatized, then we felt intense pain, guilt, despair, numbness, void, disorientation, aching. We were good to each other.
We decided we needed to remember Lancelot as the joyful cat he was. Lauren drew a picture of him from a picture I took of him, lying on the bed, sunning himself. He loved the sun, and the wind, more than any other cat I've known.
I don't know how much sense this makes, but I think we've grieved well. It's hard work. I'd forgotten, or didn't know. I never grieved like this before.
When I was 9, my grandpa died, rather suddenly, and I didn't know what to do. I had this horrible, inarticulate guilt about his death for years, and never really got over it until I was in my 20s. My grandma died when I was in college, not at all suddenly, and her death was more a relief than anything. She had spent the better part of a decade slowly passing. The only other deaths I've experienced very directly have been of two other cats. It's very weird to say so, but I was closer to Lancelot than to anyone else in my life who has died, except for my grandpa. And it's very odd to realize as I'm writing this that I spent more time with Lancelot than with my grandpa. In fact, I believe I spent more time actually interacting with Lance than with any human being I've known. I was his in a profound way. His death has been a lot to grieve.
We're exhausted. We're doing well, though. Lauren has been wonderful to me. Our friend - indeed, Lancelot's friend -, Christina, has been wonderful to us.
So now, as I'm just starting to be able to respond to the world again, I look around, and it seems as though the world economy is collapsing due to the failure of the mass hallucination which is the global financial market. Listen, gang: pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. I know, they call it a Ponzi scheme, but that's almost entirely a bad rep.
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