Sunday, August 9, 2009

She's Gone...

(She's Gone)
Oh, I...
Oh, I...
I better learn how to face it
She's Gone (She's Gone)
Oh I...
Oh I...
I'd pay the Devil to replace her
She's Gone (She's Gone)
Oh I...
What went wrong?

Perhaps the 70's weren't the most eloquent when it came to lyrics that expressed one's feelings about numerous sociological issuse...but when it came to love and/or heartache, sometimes they hit the nail right on the head. And I'm not applying this song to a woman that's left me, but to Nike, my beloved kitty.

I was already in tears when Arguskos and his friend were loading up the car with her things. Once they were gone, I completely lost it. Quite often, that cat was the reason I got out of bed, knowing that if I didn't get up, no one else was around to care for her. The way she would meow at me, you'd think she was my wife, and that she was giving me what for whenever I came home from being out for a while. "How dare you leave me here, all alone, without anyone to do the things my little paws can't handle?! And...Is that another cat I smell on you? Oh, you're in for it now, buster. Just wait until you go to sleep. I'll be up on the counters, knocking things to the floor, and making a mess of everything I can get my little kitty nose into!"

How much did (does) she love me? Well, I will probably miss playing "Dodge Cat." This was the game enforced on me when she had to keep me in view. Her low vantage point on the ground meant she couldn't see me at all times, and so she would follow me into the bathroom, or into the kitchen, just so she knew exactly where I was. Her pace wasn't always the one I had, and I don't move that fast at times. Still, I would have to step over or around her, because she wasn't moving fast enough. She would also, on occasion, poke her head into the shower to see if the "water spewing monster" had melted "papa."

Of course, there was also her "I want love" mode. There was no escaping her, unless I left the apartment altogether. I never did that...I'm just saying that that's the only way to have gotten away from her. Whether I was on a chair or on my bed, Nike would put her front paws on a higher surface to check if the coast was clear. Once she had the lay of the land, up she would come, seeking a place to make herself as comfortable as possible, as close to me as possible.

And Saturday morning was a bit of a treat. Only occassionally would I wake up to find her with me in the morning, sniggled in tight. Yesterday morning was one of those, and we had a little love-fest as I woke up, with her purring and butting her head into mine. "I love you papa, 'a whole bunch of dis manies,' and I will now bang my head into yours to prove it."


So distracted was I that I kinda forgot to give Argus some other stuff I had wanted him to take with him. There's a box of books around here somewhere that would only add to the weight of my things should I end up flying to TN.

I don't think that's going to happen. It's only a few short days since the blowout with Stu, but no one has called. My post on Friday had what I would like to say to my father. To Stu, I would say this...

"You are either calling to offer me a home, free of all expenses, or you're wasting both of our time. You see, while you were there, revealing your TRUE motivations for having me move to TN, I have had people offering ideas as to where I can go, and what I can do without my blood relations.

"That has to be THE MOST pathetic thing of all. Pathetic for you, that is. People who have no obligation to me have shown a willingness to come to my aid, when my family is thinking more along the lines of, 'What can we get out of Rob moving here?' There were two things that were supposed to happen with this move to TN. I would have a home, and you would get a boost in the finance department. Little did I know that it was really all about the latter, and almost none of the former.

"It would seem that everyone in our family is about ulterior motives. What's offered on the surface always has some other desire. But tell me, Stu...What could have been my ulterior motive when I busted my ass to get to you when you were DYING in a critical care ward. Did I get there late? Yes, I did. But I GOT THERE! Who else in our family turned every which way to get to you? Our youngest brother? Hell, if you hadn't called him, he wouldn't even know you survived the experience. Did any of our cousins load into a care and drive the numerous hours to see you? Did they book last minute flights to see you? No...There was just me, the disabled guy, without the money on his own to see you, doing everything in my power to get to you before you died. And my motivation? Just so that I could say 'I love you' and have you hear it.

"How selfish of me!

"Now, as I become sicker with each passing year, and I face becoming increasingly crippled, the family thought that moving into your house would be a good thing. Oh, but then drama has to come out of the concept that I might run into our biological mother, and that once again there might be all out war. Didn't I prove myself on that account when I called her to ensure peace when I visited you in the hospital? Did I not prove that I may well be the best of all of us in this G-d-foresaken family by doing all that I did in that time of crisis? People with hearts seem to think so...which, I suppose, is why my family doesn't.

"So, Stu...I have received much better offers from people who are not legally family. But they have become family to me. They mean more to me than you, or our father, or anyone else that I am tied to by blood. I have even shed more tears over my cat than I probably would for any of you...because her love was unconditional, while yours is. 'Pay me rent, or you have no place in my house.' I'd rather have no place in your house. And in order to prove your humanity over this creature you have shown me, you are going to have to offer me a place to stay without wanting so much as a penny.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll pay rent. I'll pay what is currently the best offer yet. You will get $200, and no more. After that, I will pay my bit for the cell phone I don't want, since that's all you seem to be allowing me to have. You will also get $20 a month until the bed is paid off. Then, my money will be spent on my things, such as specialty foods and the like. And if you think you can threaten me into a corner, where you think you're going to kick me out into the street with nowhere to go, I have news for you. There are plenty of places for me to go. It would seem that various people are ready, willing, and able to see me moved into their neck of the woods, leaving my legal family behind.

"By all means, throw one of your infantile fits. I have the time to decide where I'm going, as well as the will to tell everyone related to me exactly where they can shove their version of 'love.' There are others out there who know who I am, what I am, and truly LOVE who I am. People who are in no rush to judge me as 'a problem.'

"But, no...You've already confessed that you don't wear the pants in your family. There are no joint decisions between you and your 'mail-order-bride.' It's all about her and her iron-fisted rule, and you don't have the chutzpah to stand up for what's right. All you see is the money, and she will somehow convince you to allow strangers to reside in your home. If she can con anyone into the imaginary rent of $500 a month to have a room, all the better for you, I suppose...until you find out that you've let a thief or murderer under your roof. That's where the Meadows legacy will end, as my nephew is added to the list of bodies found at your address.

"So...this is probably goodbye. I wish you the very best in all of your future endeavors, whatever they may be. I'm sorry that you have become whatever it is that you are, and hopefully you will learn as the years go by. If you do, don't seek me out. This was the best of all opportunities to have your brother in your life, and all you wanted was the money. It's a genuine shame...for you."

Believe it or not, one of the things I was looking forward to was showing my nephew the love he doesn't get from his family. I wanted to tell him bedtime stories, in which he was the lead character. I wanted to play games with him. I wanted to help him with his homework. He would have been the son I'd never had, and I was going to shower him with parental love that is, as far as I can see, absent in his life. Right now, he is plopped down in front of the TV or the computer, and left to his own designs until he starts making a mess. Then he gets yelled at. And I know this because that's what I constantly hear on the phone when I would talk to my brother.

Not hard to see why I would love a cat more than "those people," is it?

I'm off to try and distract myself from these ultimately depressing thoughts. At some point, it was drilled into my head that "family is supposed to care." I will try to remain calm over it, but deep down I will seethe with anger that my family never knew what love is supposed to be.

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