And Ronon died. It's a grief heavy piece.

I do love to write.

But I don't have time to indulge in it any further than surface value. My limited time is geared for illustration, I show the most promise with it, and it pays the bills. I can't afford to risk more of my time to explore writing, sadly.

I think that's why I keep this blog. It gives me a little space to write some words out. Then I play editor, always struggling to improve my grammar a little better than the last time. Trying to pull my incoherent mess of thoughts into something that makes sense.

And then Ronon died. I've nothing more to say.

I knew his time was coming, but I still wasn't prepared. You can't prepare for this, no matter how many impactful deaths you weather through.

Growing up, my parents wouldn't face the topic of death. You just didn't discuss this. Pets went “to the farm” , they didn't die. My folks avoided the hard conversations.

Like I was 15 years old sitting in a car watching my grandpa's funeral from afar, because my mom didn't want us at the funeral. Didn't want to talk about how we felt after, it was my dad's dad that died. “Get over it” was the attitude.

When my childhood dog was dying, I was 16 and afraid. I knew they were going to put her down but I had so many questions and no answers. At the last second, my dad said “Vanessa why don't you go in and stay with Jackson (my dog) while she gets put down.”

I freaked out, I didn't want her to die, I didn't know how to comfort her in that moment or anything and I ran out of the vets office. My parents left her there by herself with the vet to put her down. I've always felt so horrible for that.

So when Ronon was dieing, I was revisited by all these thoughts & fears and GUILT I held for decades since Jackson died.

On top of my grief over Ronon, I had my children to help work them through their grieving process too. This in their first impactful loss, (my term for death that affected them first hand and they're old enough to remember/have stories with the deceased). They needed to be able to cry and talk about everything they felt and feared and I had to put my feelings aside and help them through this.

I never want them to feel as alone, confused and unable to talk about death as I used to be. It's a stark fact of life and it happens all the time. Shielding from the reality of death never helps.

I feel better having him back home.

It's such a bewildering time after a loved one dies. They want to know if you will cremate or bury, and here is ALL the extra fees and things you don't really need, but in your grief you can't think straight. It's such a money making ploy.

“You could buy the basic little wooden box for his ashes, but if you truely loved your companion, you would invest in the gold inlay, marble urn with poetry inscriptions and the custom xmas ornament, custom death portrait t-shirt, they have an A.I artist to recreate his portrait on a canvas, even put his portrait on stamps to mail out to friends! Also have his portrait framed to match the urn, have his death certificate framed too while we’re at it.”

I hold no guilt because my bank account couldn't afford any of the extras. I don't need to prove to anyone else he was loved. And this is no judgement on anyone who did buy those things for their pets loss. The judgement goes straight to capitalism and capitalizing on our grief.

I had to bribe him with bacon, to sit next to his painting for this photo. He wouldn't willingly stay put unless he wanted to. I admired his “I don't think so” attitude in his 9 pound body.

This was the first time he started hanging out when I was drawing. (I had to increase the lighting in the photo, it was dark cause it was taken around 4am. That was our time.) When he was younger, my drawing sessions were an opportunity to play fetch in between. His spider toy was as big as he was. Lol. As he got older, he stopped wanting to fetch, and just sat and watched.

He loved joining in on the kids online classroom during the COVID lockdowns in Ontario. The kids would all laugh and cheer him on to doing mischief. Not much work would get done.

I’ve never had a cat & a dog as companions at the same in before in my life. So when Ronon passed, I had no idea that pets grieve. I mean it makes total sense. It just never crossed my mind. Until Liono started yowling loudly and looking for Ronon the night after Ronon died.

The vet said it's common, and can last for up to 6 months. Liono adored Ronon, he was always trying to cuddle with him or play with him. Ronon was like 100 yrs old in doggo years, and Liono was a toddler comparatively, and they made their friendship work.

It's sad to see Liono go looking for Ronon. He goes from room to room, looking under things and in closets. Yowling as loudly as he can cause Ronon went deaf. So he's really trying to find him. He cries out a little less and less each day, but every meal time triggers him. That's when it used to be a little herd of fur, all clamoring around my ankles hoping to be fed first. Then they'd slyly steal food from each other.

Now there's no competition for attention, and noone to sneak food from. So his food gets left, he eats less, and he sleeps more on Ronon's blanket, and sits on the stairs that Ronon used to use when his hips were sore.

It's all uncharted territory for me. All I've known is how to “push past grief” and move on. This time I'm sitting here in it. I have to. I need to heal the grief that I've pushed through, like my mum's and my aunt’s deaths. It all comes back up everytime someone else dies that was important to me. It doesn't help to have a tsunami of unhealed grief just waiting to drown you each time. I get lost in who I'm crying for.

This solitary orchid bud bloomed when Ronon passed. Literally opened up at the same time I found him. Bittersweet. & Disbelief. Of ALL the times to bloom, why right then? I'd been waiting on her to bloom for weeks. Now I have tears when I see her. It was magical and it was not.

I have tears when I think of this blog and my career. Everytime I feel like I'm starting to make some progress, another catastrophic thing happens and I'm forced backwards to cope and regroup while watching my peers carry on. I know I’ll be back in the swing of things again, I always make it back. But for how long until the next catastrophic thing, and more importantly, should I bother again? Which social media platform to use when they're all catering to A.I?

In my near future I may have to relocate again when my year lease is up. So it makes me really have to consider what I can do, what I can't do and what I have the mental capacity to handle.

I may get rid of the bulk of this website and narrow it down to a one page with the needed info and a handful of my best current art. When I started my art page up, with a blog, I had visions of having a little supportive community, and I would be doing conventions and selling things on and offline. Since the creation of this page, I’ve had five close family & friends die, and the A.I bullshit has ruined social media so much. I've never paid so much money to eat so little, or paid this much in rent. Affording conventions is out of the question, I can't afford to print things anymore and boy things feel real futile at the moment.

I'm sorry that my pessimism is clouding my hope. This isn't a helpful post, it's more of a diary post. I don't know where I will go from here. Maybe ditch the blog. Maybe not. Maybe revamp. Maybe not.

I miss my little drawing buddy. I know wherever he is, he's chasing the squirrels and dining on burgers, painfree 💜.