Life and profound loss

It's been a month! Mr. Darcy passed away, and Sookie St. James passed away less than a month later. The three of us spent over 14 happy years together. I am coming from a space of gratitude instead of sadness. My cats were there for me in every difficult moment, losing family and life events. I feel like I gave them the best life a cat could want. I loved them with all my heart, and I miss them immensely. If you've ever lost a pet, you know exactly what it feels like. I took this video of my new Gilroy, CA apartment, which seems too quiet sometimes in their absence. I turned 50 on Tuesday, and I enjoyed the day as much as one can when they're missing their two best friends, (Sookie and Darcy), but also Angie, Dawn, Tamara, and Don, and Shawn). Every day I feel like I am healing a bit more than I was the day before. Doing everything the healthy way, the hard and healthy way. Processing the pain and loss instead of putting it off to another day that never seems to come.

I'm spending a large amount of time out on the coast at PG, or Pacific Grove for those not in the know. My best pal and brother from another mother, Coburn and I are exploring every nook and cranny of the beloved coast we grew up next to. 

Dating when you're newly 50 has proved, interesting, to say the very least. California men are unique creatures. I was born and raised here, but I left 30 years ago, and things have changed, significantly. Some men take issues with a woman if she eats meat, carbs, gluten or fruits and vegetables that did not fall dead from the tree or vine of their own accord. Also, the fact that I possess and carry a firearm is an issue to some as well. 

When I moved to Gilroy, (Santa Clara County), I had to surrender my active Madera County CCW, and apply for this counties CCW, and just to get the initial interview was 8 months of not carrying as I was out and about at all hours of night and day alone. I had my interview and passed that again, then passed the background check again, and this Friday I have my psych eval online that is supposed to last 4-6 hours, and after passing that again, I will be on the last step which is to qualify at the gun range again. This will be the third CCW I have obtained. I think by now the Department of Justice knows I am a fully trained, and responsible, and extremely law-abiding citizen. I am thinking about competing in range competitions I've gotten so adept at this hobby.

All in all, I am taking everything in stride, and savoring every moment life has to offer. With friends I've had since high school, and new friends I've met along the way, and I have high hopes for brighter days to come. I'm even pondering getting a long-haired miniature dachshund, that I've already decided to name Petrichor, male or female.

If I could offer some unsolicited device, never miss an opportunity to love your people, pets and moments to their utmost; and never, ever, miss an opportunity to laugh at yourself, and at the absurdity of the moment, and with your beloved friends and family. I have so many happy memories, and even more to make. Miles to go before I sleep.

The policy of silence

 “The Policy of Silence”

You tell us to speak when we witness a wrong,

To raise up our voices, be steadfast and strong.

You print out the posters, hang signs on the wall,

“See something, say something” — the company call.

But the truth is a weapon you turn on our backs,

When honesty threatens your carefully laid tracks.

You don’t want the truth, you just want control,

A head bowed in silence, a self-swallowed soul.

You say you want courage, a just, open door,

But pushbacks are punished and truth is a chore.

The brave ones who speak are dismissed with a grin,

Their badge turned to shame, their file thrown in.

What you mean is: stay quiet, obey and pretend,

Don’t rock the boat or you’ll reach your end.

Don’t ask any questions, don’t look too deep,

Don’t stir what the higher-ups want you to keep.

You preach of respect but enforce the regime

Where kissing the ring is the company dream.

Where loyalty’s measured in silence and spin,

And ethics are buried with a marketing grin.

So when someone stands for what’s honest and right,

They’re labeled a problem, dismissed overnight.

Not fit for the game, not part of the plan—

Just another bold soul the system outran.

You say, “Speak up,” but mean “Fall in line,”

Or find yourself next in the unemployment line.

By,

Samara Sant

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So productive today! My bestie came by and we ran to get food in the rain. Getting ready for work tomorrow.

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A blissfully, quiet day, uneventful, but quite productive. Nothing too incredibly exciting. Rest relaxation a little bit of laundry, put on a nice roast should be ready in a couple of hours. I enjoy meal prep nothing exciting on the agenda for tomorrow, really nothing until Friday morning. Saying prayers that everything goes well at my 930 meeting. I’m thinking of the Japanese after their 7.6 earthquake, and impending tsunami.

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 Another year come and gone. Where does the time go? No, seriously, where did it go? I feel like I just got here. Here being California. I feel like it's 1993 and I am leaving these Bay Area streets for Oklahoma. Now it's the end of 2023, and I am back on the very same streets. It's true you know; you can't go home again. The streets are dirtier, more crowded, and infinitely more dangerous. The roads are literally disintegrating beneath our feet. The beaches I walked down on Thanksgiving are under water. Where I lived twice with my father and sister, Pacifica, well, it hasn't fared any better. 40-foot swells. The ocean is no longer staying put. 

Lost more family this year. Aunt Barb, my mom's sister, died at the end of May.  I lost touch or grew apart from friends I thought I'd have for life. Tammi, Shawn, Angela Majors, (not my bestie Angie), I'm talking to you. As I go about my global adventures, I take each of you with me. I always think about what we would be saying as I walk through. I think about adventures we've been on as Facebook reminds me every day. What great fun we had. I miss you more than words can say. I wish we could talk, hang out, catch up. 

I had a health scare. Post rape I was under extreme stress. My cardiologist said that I was in perfect health except that I had stress related (and completely reversible), sinus tachycardia, and that if I didn't make some changes, I wouldn't be long for this world. The Urgent Care Doc didn't read the test results right initially, and told me I didn't have 3 hours, and that I needed to get to a Trauma Center. Trauma Cardiologist was so mad at her. I was released the same day, no surgery, no death sentence. Just a prescription for peace.

Dealing with my attack alone in Helena, without my best friends Tammi and Shawn, and leaning solely on Angie all the way in South Carolina, and my sister in California, wasn't easy. I had to get to loved ones fast, so here I am. Mr. Darcy and Sookie St. James don't care for the inner city but seem to be content being with me. We've really taken to the full-time rv life. I sit here blogging, listening to my Alexa that Shawn got me all those years ago, and Sookie is sitting next to me in her cat bed. Window is open and my Xterra is a foot away from that, so I can keep an eye on it. It was 70 degrees on Christmas day. It's always pleasant here. I miss Montana, and just want to come home. 

I'm running 406 Back the Blue from here, with the help of my beloved support team. I wish my Xterra could pull my travel trailer, but alas, I accidentally bought one that is too heavy. Otherwise, I would be out at the RV park by Overland Express living my best life.

Hoping the gunfire at midnight is minimal. It would be incredibly dumb to be out in these streets tonight. It's awful on the best days, tonight is going to be something akin to downtown Falluja. My little rv park should be pretty chill, but who knows what it will be like nearby.

The eucalyptus smell that I associate with home, that still lingers in the air. Reminds me of people long gone, and my heart hurts. Have to protect my heart from heartache more now than ever. I eat right, get plenty of exercise, but I can no longer get upset, frustrated, or even aggravated, and I certainly can't cry. Don't want my death certificate to read, "she died of a broken heart", literally.

I'm hopeful. I have faith. I have so many blessings in life. So many friends and some family that I love more than life itself, and my two cats that I hope live forever.

So, here's to another year. May the best of your past, be the worst of your future. I love you, and I miss you, more than yesterday, but less than tomorrow.

Thanksgiving

 

Temporary like me

 “Temporary, Like Me”

They handed her to me wrapped in red tape,

A bundle of trauma with no real escape.

“Love her like yours,” they said with a smile,

“But don’t ask too much—just stay for a while.”

I held her through screaming, through silence, through fear,

Asked questions they didn’t want anyone near.

“What happened before?” “Why won’t she eat?”

“Why does she flinch?” “Why can’t she sleep?”

They tell me to care but not care too loud,

To be there, but quiet, obedient, proud.

I ask for a doctor, a second set of eyes,

They meet me with silence or sugar-wrapped lies.

I’m told I’m too much when I won’t play along,

That fighting for answers is somehow just wrong.

I speak up for her, but I’m labeled a threat,

A problem, a burden, too easy to forget.

“You’re just a bed,” they say without saying,

“Just keep her safe, keep feeding, keep praying.

But don’t get involved, don’t cross that line—

She’s not really yours, and she’s not really mine.”

And maybe they’re right—maybe I’m too raw,

Too hopeful for justice, too struck by the flaw.

Because love in this system is measured in weeks,

And those who fight hardest are silenced as freaks.

So after this child, when she finds her way,

I’ll fold up the crib and walk away.

Not because I stopped loving or care too small—

But because I was never meant to care at all.

I was meant to be silent, to play the good part,

But I showed up with questions—and too much heart.