Requeim for a friend

Our new “diet”/lifestyle has brought many positive changes to our family.  The good far outweighs the bad.  Things such as less brain fog, less actual body weight (that would be for the adults in the family), less blinding headaches (me), more energy, better skin (all members)…the list goes on and on.

I haven’t blabbed too much about what we’re doing, because I think lifestyle choices are just those–lifestyle choices made by each and every one of us.  And should be free from criticism by others or ridicule or whatnot.  That being said, I’ve not said a lot about what we’re doing.  We feel better so that’s all that matters.

All of that being said (written), I must make this official and say goodbye once and for all to a very dear friend.  One who has gotten me through some tough times.  Late nights at Sweet Eugene’s in College Station trying to get through Veterinary Anatomy and Physiology (why was that so difficult???).  Really late nights at the Small Animal Clinic at Texas A & M University College of Veterinary Medicine–wow, so scary.  More late nights sitting with colicking horses in the back of my (our) small veterinary clinic in Saratoga.  Or a very sick yellow labrador (RIP Petie).  A very, very dear friend who changed colors a bit when my dearest daughter made an appearance in my life.  And who stuck by me through thick, thicker and thickest parts of my life (expanding waistline mind you).  A so very dear friend who then hung on through the fog of early parenthood, morphing with various necessary diet changes as my dear daughter dealt with mommy’s intake.

This dear friend was my rock.  My go-to.  My calm in the storm of life.  (Ooh, that’s good writing.)  My transformative breath.  My happy thought.  My security blanket.  My comfort, my joy, my life.

I have been without this dear, dear friend since October 17th, 2014.  We had a brief reunion sometime in November that, sadly, oh so sadly, ended disastrously for me.  And since then, I have been bereft, set adrift on an ocean of loneliness every morning.  Searching, ever searching, for a new best friend to help me face the challenges of life.  A new dear friend to do for me what my old dear friend did.  One who can be there for me when the going gets tough.  (Enough cliches.)

So, without further angst, I must end my grieving period, accept the things I cannot change, move on and forward, letting go of the past, tucking away the sweet memories into  a safe place to savor again someday–only in my mind sadly–not railing against the injustices of this world that I can no longer be friends with my dear, old friend, but instead, being grateful for the memories, being grateful for today.

Goodbye my love.  I shall never again drink you for comfort, for happiness, for joy, for warmth, for peace of mind, for inner strength, for calm.

I raise a cup of dull, bland, dark coffee with a bit of cream to my dear, dear friend.  Rest in peace 1/2 caffe dark chocolate mocha with whip.  You served me well.  I shall never forget you.

Shalom.  Slainte.  Vaya con dios mi amigo.

About madranchwife

Mother, Mad Ranchwife(as in--at times-- crazy, nutso, loco, off-my-rocker insane), Veterinarian, Physical Therapist, "Liberal, pinko, gay-loving, Subaru-driving Socialist" (as I've been called), proud to be a totally tree-huggin', climate change believin', granola girl environmentalist, ObamaGirl, Pro-Choice (don't even get me started here...), and in my younger days a feminist vegetarian as a result of time spent at CU Boulder (this lasted approximately 14 months, until all the Jimmy Buffett I was listening to caused me to crave a cheeseburger). #FindingMyVoice #ScienceMatters
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s