Death in the family

A week ago today I woke up to find my pet parrot, Paradyse, dead in her cage. She was almost 7 years old, when she should have lived to be at least 15. I don't deal with death very often. I've only been to one funeral that I can remember, and I wasn't close to the person who died (who was not a relative). I also have never had a pet that was not a fish. One with a real personality and a place in my life.

I spent the day cleaning. My apartment is now cleaner than it's been since Adam and I moved our stuff into it. It could have been worse.

I try to find the good in all things and this is no exception. Even though I am devastated that my birdie will not be around to watch my kids grow up like I planned, I feel like I have gained perspective. 

I have a better idea of what is important to me. I am tired of spending so much time worrying about things when I could be doing more to help the people I love.

I am less afraid. Everything could change in one freak accident or one tragic illness. Against that, why should I be so afraid of anything that doesn't kill me? Hell, I'm afraid of things that don't even matter. Things like interviews. It doesn't even make sense anymore. 

I want my bird back. I know that's impossible.

Life goes on. There's so much to deal with right now.

I miss you.