Caterwauling

I always cry when awards shows get to the “In Memoriam” part.

Like tonight’s Emmys. Where I was quite moved by one Jellyroll.

I woke up today
I almost stayed in bed
Had the devil on my back
And voices in my head
Some days, it ain’t all bad
Some days, it all gets worse
Some days, I swear I’m better off
Layin’ in that dirt.

Ran myself ragged again today. Had one errand to run (I couldn’t find my favorite chocolate peanut butter beer from Epcot locally) so I went to North Miami and made a day of it.

Just as I was taking my exit, the skies opened up.

I was grateful that I wouldn’t be driving in the rain.

But then I saw two abandoned shopping carts filled with someone’s (or someones’) entire life possessions, and my heart broke.

I like to think my angels are watching me and making sure I’m safe and happy. Where were their angels?

When I came home, I saw the street cats. They still perk up when they hear my car.

I haven’t fed them in five months now. I still feel like shit every day about it. I love them and hope someone loves on them.

Kind of like I hoped someone loves on those people whose carts (and probably whose bodies) were getting soaked.

I finally accept that I wanted to give up on the street cats.

Everyone knows (because I told them) I was just at my wits’ end and not sleeping and ready to murder Butterface and Latin Bitch Boy.

Which is true. But now they know my Momma was dying and I was BEYOND my wits’ end.

I mean, I should have returned to the routine. But … I don’t wanna. I still hate my neighbors.

And now I have this fun problem of having no strength or motivation.

Mom lost her dad when she was newly 50. The irony is not lost on me.

I used to get so mad at her that she grieved for the next 17 years. Like, you came to live with me. Now, LIVE.

Hindsight being what it is, grief takes everything out of you. Your ability to feel good. Mentally or physically. I have never hurt so much and not just my heart.

Losing her daddy was Mom’s downfall. What if it’s mine?

Anyway I know it’s wrong to look at the people with the carts or the sad, skinny little cats and hope someone else is kind to them.

But, I’m not asking anyone to be kind to me. I helped in my better seasons. And I hope I will again.

Could someone, anyone step in and be the angel that is clearly missing in these and a billion other scenarios until I figure out how to get my shit back together to do my part again?

I’ve been listening to the Disney Halloween playlist on Apple Music.

It includes a lot of songs from “The Descendants.”

Which, I discovered after a long and miserable day at my storage unit, is an adorable series of movies about the children of Disney villains given a shot at redemption.

The music is amazing. It reminds me of “Six,” the play we saw earlier this year about the wives of Henry VIII. And now those are all mashed up in my tear-stained brain.

In the first (2015) Descendants movie, Mal, daughter of Maleficent, is on a date with Belle and Beast’s son, Ben.

Mal sings about whether he’ll still want her after the magic spell she put on him runs out.

Given that one of the movies is “Mal & Ben’s Wedding,” I’m going to say she’s fine.

I like the inherent struggle all these characters face, between taking over the idyllic kingdom and restoring their parents’ power or actually enjoying the fruits (literal fruits; Mal has never had strawberries before) of being good.

Anyway the title of this post really struck a chord with me.

How do you go on when the magic your momma brought to your life every day for 50 years is gone.

I used to get in fights with people and think it was worse than them being dead. That they are out there living and either don’t want anything to do with you (with you dead to them) or cannot leave you alone (e.g., always ready to remind you they aren’t dead).

There is a certain peace in knowing that your beloveds (or be-hateds) have crossed over. You know where they are.

You do not get new information to process, generally. You get some more perspective on who they were and your relationship with them.

But overall, they are preserved in amber and even the less pleasant memories tend to fade faster than the rest.

What’s sad is when there was so much magic and then it runs out because their time did.

Like I cannot wait from trump and his ilk to kick off. But no, those Disney villains keep reproducing and recruiting.

I wonder how many people out there are walking around with their hearts and tear ducts ready to explode because they had something so good and now they have nothing.

I got to talking to Peanut’s mom last night. Mom was a huge fan of Peanut. And she just died not from surgery but from the anesthesia.

I told her mom that MY mom was a huge fan. And that my mom was probably in line to love on Peanut at the Rainbow Bridge.

Peanut’s mom remarked on me losing Cocoa and Mom together, as she lost a hoomin recently too. That it’s unforgivable to have so much loss, so close together.

It’s in moments like that where we still find magic. Another person seeing you, really seeing you.

That’s what I don’t have anymore. That and stuffing balls.

Christ, I cannot even think about Thanksgiving. With no magical balls to be grateful for, what else is there?