In a Funk

I thought it was a case of The Mondays, but it has lasted two weeks. Maybe it's the weather. Or the job. Or maybe it's the stars and the planets. Maybe it's the state of the world. Or Bush. Or the environment. Maybe it is inertia, maybe it's sadness, as if my cat had died.

My cat died Sunday. She was 20 years old and she walked the length of the driveway to greet me each day when I arrived home from work. She is buried under the birdfeeder in a cardboard box, unable to make it to summer.

I wrote a post about my father and the next day a friend told me that in a dream they saw me standing with a man who was tall and wide. Looking, they realized that it was my father, and it felt like he was made of "light".

Long ago I went to a spiritualist church and the "pastor" said that my grandfather was "coming through", he wanted to tell me that he was watching over me. Ancestors can be scary.

I want to walk the length of the universe and lie down on the earth alone to die. No fanfare for me, the living will toss horseshoes, snap their gum, slap each others' cheeks stoically.

Dipping into their deepest memories, they will fake recognition of one another, make a day of it. Take some pictures.