Today is Good Friday. I admit to being a little lax in acknowledging the significance of the day in the recent past. I used to be a really strong believer in the Catholic faith, and I still am in many respects.
The Catholic church has given me a strong moral basis for my life. I was brought up to treat others with respect, to accept others' differences, to honor your parents, to forgive when you feel like revenge is justified, and to love God.
When I was very young, I blindly followed the teachings of the Church. As time wore on and I realized that the Church was not exactly supportive of Gay people, I had to readjust my thinking a bit. I realized that the Church was led by men and therefore was subject to human failing. I also realized that God created me the way that I am. No one, not even the Catholic Church, can tell me that I have no value or that I am immoral and going to hell because of who I choose to love.
I went through stages of self-loathing, thoughts of suicide, and maybe trying to be "normal" by getting married. I'm not sure where the turning point was that I finally accepted who I was and decided that I was a pretty good guy in general. I do have my flaws--we all do.
I think the one thing I worried about most was whether my Mother and Father would accept me as a Gay person. In their way, they did accept me. I'm not sure they ever accepted the Gay part, but they loved me for who I am. Dad didn't speak to me for a couple of weeks after he found out and then he gradually decided I was still his son and that he loved me.
Mom struggled with it most of the time. She told me she blamed herself in some way. She wasn't sure what mistake she had made that made me the way I was. I told her that God made me the way I am. I told her that she raised all of her kids the same way, and to my knowledge none of the others were Gay. I jokingly said that maybe Gay people were God's way of natural birth control. Bottom line, she loved me as much as she loved any of her children. My parents were true believers in unconditional love.
On this Good Friday I remember all the reverence my Mother attributed to this Holy Day and I try to continue that tradition of reverence by maintaining an hour of silence from Noon until 1:00--symbolic of the time that Jesus died on the cross. I also will Fast and Abstain according to the Church's teachings. I love the fact that I can honor my parents by respecting their traditions and beliefs and practicing the faith that I was brought up in. I thank God for my family, friends, and for my life. Without them, I would not be the caring, loving, accepting individual that I am today.
Happy Easter Everyone!
Friday, March 29, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Knowing When to Let Go
One of the most difficult parts of owning a pet is knowing when to let go when their health is failing. It's a process that involves fighting the urge to hold onto something you love as long as possible, but realizing that you may be putting your feelings above the best interests of the pet you love.
I am currently deciding whether to have my beautiful Great Pyrenees, Chelsea, put to sleep. She's 14 years old, pants quite a bit, and paces constantly unless I force her to lay down and rub her belly until she falls asleep. She wakes up at least twice a night and starts pacing. I usually have to let her out on the deck to cool down and hope that she wets or poops if she needs to do that.
She woke up twice last night (February 12, 2013) and began pacing. I let her out on the deck to cool down (she was panting heavily and seemed agitated). I let her back in and got her to lay back down and to fall asleep again by rubbing her belly and stroking her muzzle. This happened twice last night--once at 2 a.m. and then at 6 a.m. Evidently I missed the first minute or so of one of the times she was up and moving around, because the next morning I found that she had thrown up in the living room and peed in the dining room.
It takes a lot for me to give up on an animal. I've had 4 dogs and 3 cats that I've had to come to terms with their deaths. Each one lived a long, full life (average age was 14 to 18 years--though two of the three Shar Peis had much shorter life spans due to genetic inbreeding--Teddy died when he was 8, Mona died when she was just over a year old. My last Shar Pei, Millie, evidently had a better gene pool, because she lived 13 years. I had to put my Chinese Crested, Connor, to sleep this past Christmas Eve. It made it the worst Christmas that I have ever had in my life.
I've decided I need to make an appointment to take Chelsea in. She is alert and drinking and eating, though not as much as she has in the past, she seems uncomfortable, agitated, disoriented at times, and has major problems with her hips (she stumbles quite a bit and has fallen down several times lately). In my heart, I'm hoping the vet decides to give her something to help her sleep through the night and that I can hold onto her forever. In my head I know that she is nearing her end of time here and needs to move on. She will be out of pain and, I hope, in a better place. That doesn't make it any easier to let go of someone you love (my pets are my family, my friends, and provide unconditional love that is often hard to find in a human being). I just hope the ache I have in my heart will ease with time.
You never forget your friends, furry or otherwise, who have impacted your life in positive ways. They all reside in a corner of your heart you reserve for loves lost.
I am currently deciding whether to have my beautiful Great Pyrenees, Chelsea, put to sleep. She's 14 years old, pants quite a bit, and paces constantly unless I force her to lay down and rub her belly until she falls asleep. She wakes up at least twice a night and starts pacing. I usually have to let her out on the deck to cool down and hope that she wets or poops if she needs to do that.
She woke up twice last night (February 12, 2013) and began pacing. I let her out on the deck to cool down (she was panting heavily and seemed agitated). I let her back in and got her to lay back down and to fall asleep again by rubbing her belly and stroking her muzzle. This happened twice last night--once at 2 a.m. and then at 6 a.m. Evidently I missed the first minute or so of one of the times she was up and moving around, because the next morning I found that she had thrown up in the living room and peed in the dining room.
It takes a lot for me to give up on an animal. I've had 4 dogs and 3 cats that I've had to come to terms with their deaths. Each one lived a long, full life (average age was 14 to 18 years--though two of the three Shar Peis had much shorter life spans due to genetic inbreeding--Teddy died when he was 8, Mona died when she was just over a year old. My last Shar Pei, Millie, evidently had a better gene pool, because she lived 13 years. I had to put my Chinese Crested, Connor, to sleep this past Christmas Eve. It made it the worst Christmas that I have ever had in my life.
I've decided I need to make an appointment to take Chelsea in. She is alert and drinking and eating, though not as much as she has in the past, she seems uncomfortable, agitated, disoriented at times, and has major problems with her hips (she stumbles quite a bit and has fallen down several times lately). In my heart, I'm hoping the vet decides to give her something to help her sleep through the night and that I can hold onto her forever. In my head I know that she is nearing her end of time here and needs to move on. She will be out of pain and, I hope, in a better place. That doesn't make it any easier to let go of someone you love (my pets are my family, my friends, and provide unconditional love that is often hard to find in a human being). I just hope the ache I have in my heart will ease with time.
You never forget your friends, furry or otherwise, who have impacted your life in positive ways. They all reside in a corner of your heart you reserve for loves lost.
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