Saturday, July 21, 2007

Quiet...

...too quiet. Scary quiet.

Though I have finally removed the visible signs of Hobbes's 18-year tenancy with me -- his cat carrier, in which he sometimes liked to sleep, went to a cat-owning friend today -- I can't be here for five minutes without being reminded that he is gone. I still jump at small, cat-like noises, still look around expecting him to walk in the door....

Almost as bad is the knowledge that I was already lonely when he was here, and am utterly alone now. I feel a detachment when I am around people, as if we are living in different dimensions. Their existence -- particularly in the case of couples, or parents with children -- is foreign to me.

I come home from such outings and try to entertain myself. It doesn't work very well.

It's not that I want it to be this way. I am a social animal, one who does infinitely better with companionship.

I miss people. Certain people, that is. No point in naming them; they are not here, and I wouldn't want to embarrass any one of them who might somehow end up reading this by letting them know how much they are missed.

On the other hand, I don't mind embarrassing me. God knows I've done it a million times.

So let us just say that I am lonely as hell, and all attempts to alleviate the feeling have failed miserably.

And so I mourn. Mourn the loss of my feline buddy, and am sad because those I miss most should have had a chance to meet him or, in one case, had spent more time with him. And me, of course.

8 comments:

joan said...

How sad for you. The closer they are the more you miss them.

I have such a social job my home is a peaceful retreat but you don't have that social part to retreat from since you work at home. Unlike you, the longer I live alone the more I wonder if I could live with anyone again. I am already getting stuck in my ways.

Of course, I think that you should go by the local hospital and explore volunteering a couple hours a week. I see it work time after time. What a neat collection of people of all ages I have gathered together. People get swept into a circle of caring folks and feel like that are doing something worthwhile. If you were in Charleston I would find something for you to do. I do need to be in contact with other people on a daily basis.

Take care. This is going to be a sad time no matter what. I think it has to be.

lowandslow said...

Joan might be on to something there, Scribbs. I've made some great friends through volunteer work. :)

Birdie said...

I have to agree with Joan and Scott. Perhaps even a local museum could use some help. I think you would be great at being a tour guide and passing on your knowledge in stuff. Of course, with time even that could get monotonous, but it's a start....

Or write articles for a local paper... for a fee, of course! ;-)

KauaiFinn said...

i wrote a comment in your first entry about your loss of Hobbes, but just in case you miss it, i just want to apologize again for having missed this information - and please know how sorry i am....

I know the feeling of loneliness you're feeling all too well - even years after the passing of my angel, i still mourn for her & still cannot bring myself to throwing away all her toys - and the last bone she chewed on, etc.

Hang in there, my friend...

(((HUGS)))

SunnyLane said...

I'm sorry MrScribbler.... it will take a long time and maybe forever to not miss Hobbes.

I know what you mean about 'couples' we see while out doing things.

Joan's idea is a great one. I'm also thinking of doing that a couple of hours a week.

Sunnylane in Blogger

DAL said...

If you are indeed a social animal, then you should indeed be socializing. Other people may need you as much as you need them. Don't rely on shoulda, coulda, woulda, you know where that leads already. You may have many close friends you haven't met yet.

Whatsername said...

let me know when/if you get over here, k?

John said...

It's a different world.