Silent Crevices

I’ve witnessed many things that I will never be able to unsee.

Not with the strongest eye bleach on the black market, nor any cheaply made cornea wet wipes ordered on Wish that take two months to arrive.

There isn’t a strong enough medication available to erase these disturbing images from my mind, for they’ve been deeply seared into my memories flesh, until the day that I pass on from this world.

No alcohol, by volume or proof, would ever be capable of forever eradicating the series of traumas that I’ve been exposed to.

For all it would accomplish is rendering me unconscious for a spell, only to wake up many hours later, discombobulated, with everything a blur, yet still unfortunately intact.

The only way forward towards survival is to allow myself to feel it all, to absorb it into the core of my being, by somehow (with sheer determination and prayer) continuing to live with all of the heartaches, the sorrow, and the multitude of crevices that are now permanently a part of my infrastructure.

I’ve learned that it is indeed alright to cry, to feel sad and to just stay quiet if you need to, even though these are behaviors that are mostly undesirable, unwanted and not socially acceptable.

I’ve been very silent lately, finding myself unable to put my thoughts or feelings into action, the way that I’m accustomed to and which makes a lick of sense.

I’ve had to remind myself time and time again that it is alright to be this way right now.

Deep inside my ever-churning brain, that’s always been riddled with ideas, where my words and creativity used to flow so free like a water faucet, is now dried up.

Hopefully just temporarily.


Watching my cherished dog as she passed away recently, then looking on at my daughter’s pure anguish (and now her regret and guilt that she didn’t spend enough time with her best friend while she was still alive) has sucked up the last remaining droplets of moisture on my tongue and fingertips.

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I love you, my sweet Maggie May. Thank you for everything.


I’ve learned many things during my grief journey and I plan on sharing them here this Wednesday, on what will be my mom’s 1st deathiversary.

Until then, stay safe and well. Thank you for reading.

A Loss For Words

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I haven’t known what to write about lately…everything has been so fucked up.

I’ve been at a loss for words and all of that.

But I need to write about this.

Tonight, as my daughter and I watched some TV, our eldest dog Maggie started to pant profusely. After a few more minutes, she was struggling to breathe. She seemed extremely out of it and wouldn’t eat a piece of roast beef that I had offered her.

We called the vet office that we took her to last time back in January which is closer now to our new house and since they are a 24-hour clinic, they advised us to bring her in.

Since we were not allowed inside due to the virus, a vet tech came out to get her while we waited in the car.

She could barely walk.

It didn’t take very long before they called us with the bad news. She had a tumor on her spleen that had started to bleed into her stomach. They said that surgery wasn’t even an option because she was already in the process of dying.

They came out right away to get us, so that we could be with her during her last moments. In the rush, my daughter had forgotten her mask but they were kind enough to still allow her to be with Maggie.

I asked a few times to please hurry with the syringe of whatever it is that they use…we didn’t want her to suffer any longer than she had to. My daughter let me do the talking since all she could do was sob.

I cried into her fur, talking to her, petting her softly and thanking her for so many years of unconditional love. My daughter was completely hysterical. Maggie had watched Brooke grow up; she had been her best friend.

Maggie was an old dog, at least 13 years old. We’d gotten a reprieve back in January, just enough time so that Maggie could enjoy having freedom for a couple of months with a yard to romp around in.

Our surviving dog Maya is sticking close to my side while I sit here in front of my computer typing this. I’m up so very late (how can I sleep?) and her sister is missing.

Dogs grieve just as much as humans do, only in different ways.

My God, my sweet girl is gone.

How many cracks can a heart endure before it completely shatters?

My mom’s one year death anniversary is coming up on May 20th.

My best friend’s mom died going on two weeks ago from the fucking virus.

It feels like death is everywhere, there’s so much loss, endless pain and watching my daughter’s grief-stricken, shaking body hunkered over her beloved canine companion of the last 12 years was almost too much for me to witness.

I am burnt the fuck out. Almost completely depleted.

If I could scream right now without scaring everyone in the house, I would, so fucking loudly that the windows would shake in their frames.

Maya keeps walking around, looking for her now deceased partner in crime. How do I comfort her?

How do I comfort myself?

How do I comfort anyone when I don’t even have the words anymore?

Two Sentence Updates

After almost 2 weeks of looking for an economical house insurance quote, I finally found one that I can afford.

As it turns out, insuring a century home ain’t as cheap as insuring a 47-year-old condo.


My daughter adopted a cat just over a month ago and he’s been an absolute joy to have in our new home.

His name is Rico, he’s an affectionate, silly and sweet 3-year-old stray that we found through a local rescue group.

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I signed up for a free fibromyalgia blood test, the first one ever approved by the FDA and should receive the results sometime in mid-May.

If given the opportunity, I’m entertaining the idea of becoming a participant in the upcoming clinical trials since I figure that I really don’t have anything to lose.


I have birds living in one side of my upstairs wall, they’re getting in through a small, yet decent-sized hole in my vinyl siding.

I don’t want to hire someone to cover it up right now because I love birds and they would die.


I had Orkin come out to spray for bugs and possible mice in my basement, which turned out to be a valid concern.

Birds, I don’t want to harm…but rodents are another thing entirely.


We have a beautiful weeping cherry tree in both our front and back yard.

Unfortunately, the pretty pink flowers only stay for a short period of time.

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My view from the front window.


I had a lovely talk with my mom in a dream a couple of nights ago.

I could hear her voice (and laugh) perfectly, smell her cigarette smoke and when I finally woke up, I felt peaceful.


And sadly…

My best friend’s mother passed away yesterday from Covid-19, the last person to become infected in her nursing home wing.

I knew her for 30 years, she was one of the sweetest people that I’ve ever known and my heart is absolutely broken for my friend and the rest of her family.

Please, when you go out in public, wear a mask.

Use hand sanitizer and wash your hands.

No matter where you live, I beg of you to use common sense and continue to practice social distancing.

This virus is insidious and is no fucking joke. It’s foolish to think that it’ll never happen to you or someone that you love.