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Quick Pretention

Uncertainty's Stairwell

"Mild-mannered Supermen are held in kryptonite
And the wise and foolish virgins giggle with their bodies glowing bright
Through the door, a harvest feast is lit by candlelight
It's the bottom of the staircase that spirals out of sight
The Carpet Crawlers heed their callers
We gotta get in to get out
We gotta get in to get out
We gotta get in
to get out. . ."
Genesis - "The Carpet Crawlers"

So, Echo died in my arms last night. He'd said goodbye to everyone else in the family, and was just holding on until I got there. To be quite honest, I completely flipped out. Not because he died, but because I could no longer tell whether he was alive or dead, and that uncertainty just opened the gates to a panicking flood of helplessness. I don't usually break out crying anymore, not by choice but that just seems to be how it is. And yet last night I bawled like a little baby to my mother over the telephone, holding a dead ferret in my arms and not knowing what to do about it.

He was 9 1/2. He, by all intents and purposes, should've died 6 months ago when he started really getting sick. And yet he fought his way through and actually managed to be active and healthy all the way to the end. I'm pretty sure there are a lot of people out there that don't live as full, happy, and love-filled lives as he did, and I can't figure out if that's supposed to be comforting or not.

We buried him next to his brother and sister with his two favorite toys. We put candles around the graves too, as a memorial of sorts. There's a spot left for Tally, the last of the original four, and since she's also over 9 years old (the average life-span of a ferret) and on her last legs, we're fairly certain she won't be long now. But in a way, her death will feel more like closure than anything else. The family will be together again, and the "second generation" of Max and Peter will tear things up in their place.

As always, in my life, it's never just one thing. Between losing two ferrets in one week and finding out I need another wisdom tooth removed (and rather soon), I also am just getting this horrible feeling of isolation. I get the urge to be around people, and then when I get my wish, even when they're folks I admire, adore, and respect, I start to shut down and feel out-of place. I feel like my life is decomposing - things I hold dear are slipping away, and my very urge to exist is ebbing in ways I'm not all that used to.

This morning I decided on some light breakfast, a little buttered toast, and yet my mouth was repulsed by the sensation of something being in it. The toast was fine, I just suddenly really didn't want to eat it. I managed to choke down one piece, but threw the other away out of fear of vomiting.

As always, I suppose I need to just find a new direction. I need to process these feelings in some constructive way, and as soon as I do so, I know I'll be on the road to peace again.

Until then, it's time to stumble down the stairs of Uncertainty. . .