The January Cold and Lonely
It’s pushing ten o’clock on a Monday night near mid-January. I’ve been studying how to use the program “R” for the last hour and a half.
Today was cold and miscellaneous. Lots of things working to get traction, most things slipping and gripping for purchase.
As I wind down my studying, I can’t help but miss that cat that used to lie on my desk pushing pens and pencils around, biting at stuff. I looked through pictures of him (a mistake) and now I’m sitting here, tears pouring down my face, pissed at the futility of it. It happened so fast. And I knew I’d miss him particularly bad once school started. He was a nice study companion.
I’ve tried to avoid mentioning it. I think about him every day. So does W. We try not to talk about it. Time is helping, but the pain just doesn’t go away. It sits there, lurking, ready to surprise you when you forget about it for a second.
I can’t speak for anyone else. I can only imagine there are others feeling a pain similar to mine. The pain of losing of a loved one, a beloved pet, or something you treasured that will never happen again. We suffer because we become attached to things. It happens.
During the lonely and cold days of January winter, while I’m studying in my cold basement with a space heater barely keeping me warm, I think about things that aren’t frozen and miss things that were warm and fuzzy. I know missing and mourning is normal and will weaken eventually. It still sucks.
And I study statistics, and plotting, and R. Things like: sqrt(sum((weight – xbar)^2)/(length(weight) -1)). Soon I’ll be studying and probably writing paper for a class on marketing and the co-creation of value for businesses. Not sure what that’s going to be about, but it sounds interesting. The first class isn’t until this Wednesday evening.
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4 Responses to “The January Cold and Lonely”
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I can tell you that yes the pain will fade. But it will never go away. And you are right to feel it now, this time when Bailey would have been studying with you. He was a great cat, there will never be another just like him. He is missed. Best to you and W.
Thanks Dawn. I know you’re right.
A co-worker and friend lost his dog last year and he was devastated. He told me today that he and his wife were getting two puppies of the same breed as his dog Chloe. I told him we were considering getting another feline friend (or two). He told me we’ll know when it’s time, it’ll just happen.
A familiar story maybe.
Very familiar.
You’ll know when your hearts can handle an addition to the family. And I was thinking last night about you and W.–how you’re trying not to talk about it. You both SHOULD talk about it, whenever Bailey strikes you share it with the other. It will help you both. Keeping it all inside isolates you with your grief. Not so healthy. Best to share and laugh and cry together.
I was devastated when I lost Gregor; I know how it hurts. My condolences.
I was chosen by a new kitten just a week after his passing away. Aaron and his brother, Christopher, weren’t replacements for Gregor. They did help me with the grief, though.