2011: The Year of Losses

We just found out that my husband's beloved aunt Lois passed away.

We lost her husband Marshall just a few months ago, and she was in failing health, so it was not a surprise, but, still... These things are never easy, are they. You're never as ready as you think you are...

Lois was a lovely person and I feel so lucky to have known her.

I'm especially grateful that Ev got to meet both her and Uncle Marshall.

We'll miss them so, so much...

Luna Siegel, 6/13/10 -2/26/11

Goodbye, sweet baby Loonz.

We loved you so much.

Wine

For many years, the words "Katerz" and "wine" were virtually synonymous. I LOVED wine and everyone knew it. I drank it; I talked about it; I studied it; I read about it. For YEARS, I did this. It was my second biggest hobby, after voracious music consumption. I visited wineries all up and down California. I subscribed to Wine Spectator, and was not remotely intimidated by what I read there. (Now THAT's hardcore.)

Then one day... it just stopped.

About a year ago, I realized that I was just not feeling well after having wine, or alchohol of any kind. It was as if my body couldn't process it anymore. It made me feel ever-so-vaguely sick, like I had a touch of the flu.

Undaunted, I kept trying. I was NOT giving up without a fight! HA! I'm IRISH, for Pete's sake! My BLOOD is 10 proof! :-D For a time, I was still able to drink white wine, but I was definitely off the reds. But that didn't last. Eventually, I had to admit that I just could not drink wine anymore.

I'm used to it now. But it still makes me sad... It's like I lost a part of myself. That probably sounds silly to people, or overdramatic. To those people I say: YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVED WINE!

I still hope that one day, I'll be able to enjoy it again. Especially because I'd still like to crack open the 16-year-old BV Georges Latour Private Reserve cab I've been saving for a special occasion...

Loss.

We lost another co-worker last week.

What is this – the 10^th in the past 15 years? Or is it a dozen? I’ve lost count.

I don’t know what to make of loss anymore.

It used to be, I’d experience a loss – even a catastrophic one like when my Mom died – and I would move through it, and years would pass, and the hole would get a little smaller, and the sadness would lessen. I was able to reason it out. It’s just part of life. I was even kind of proud of my ability to survive and thrive after loss. What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger, right?

But I dunno anymore. I don’t feel like I’m processing losses properly. Stuff just kind of… happens. And it hits me, and I take the hit. I feel like I’ve been hit, but it doesn’t hurt. I just add it to the various facts stored in my head. “It’s 2010. The sky is blue. I live in California. I am alive. Karin Duran is dead. Karen Berkeland is dead. Joe Dabbour is dead. Antonio Calvo is dead. KC Sluter is dead. My mother is dead. My sister is dead.” And I just… keep moving forward, to quote “Meet the Robinsons”.

Hopefully, as long as I do that – as long as I keep moving forward – I’ll be okay.

But I do grow so, so weary of the losses…