Grieving

It’s been a while since I wrote something here, and also the same for visiting your blogs, my dear readers. I have a good excuse, something that has prevented me from knitting or sewing, and I can say that not even a single stitch has been produced since then. On May 27th, due to a neighbor and a plumber, Gerry escaped through the bathroom window. He was inside his cage when the plumber was at home, but then I was asked to go to the neighbor upstairs to request him to flush, and then it all happened. Gerry escaped from his cage, crossed the stupid curtain that we installed in the living room and went to the bathroom looking for me. He found two strangers and left.

I was able to see him perched on the window of another neighbor, but when I tried to get there he got scared and flew away. A couple of hours later I heard him on a tree on the square in front of our place so I asked some neighbors in the building closest to the tree if I could go upstairs. I could see him there, overexcited about all the images and sounds. He screamed at me a couple of times and flew away over a high building. That was the last I saw from him.

We walked the streets with birds sound, played birds sounds on our terrace for more than a week and put papers on the street. It was kind of hard because the street cleaners remove them almost everyday, but we at least try. There were a couple of false alarms, but Gerry did not appear.

I can’t express with words how all this made me feel. It still hurts in a way I didn’t experiment for a very long time. It may sound very strong, but I felt like I was losing a child. My child. My beloved child. He was already with us when I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease. I couldn’t go out a lot but I didn’t care because he was with me. I usually work from home, so we spent all day together. I spent more hours with Gerry than with my own boyfriend. He was wild in his own way, but he allowed me in his little world in a way that he didn’t allow anybody else. He was a mommy’s boy, my mommy’s boy. And now he’s lost. And time goes by, and I’m losing hope.

The first think I wanted, of course, was for him to come back. The second was losing my memory, because continuing with my life remembering all those moments together was unbearable.

There are a couple of parks in Madrid where escaped parrots live, but I can’t know if he made it there. They are about 2 km from my home. I also don’t know if somebody caught him of if he got inside an apartment through an open window (it’s very warm here). I don’t know anything, and the uncertainty is killing me.

I guess I can only expect to heal from this but for now I can’t imagine how I’m going to do it. The first week I couldn’t stop crying, and I didn’t sleep a night without waking up with a racing heart at least three or four times. I was prepared to share at least 15 years with him, but that is not happening.

My baby is gone, and I don’t know how to cope with it. Who’s going to scratch his head in the way he likes?

I can’t even bear to watch pictures of him, so I won’t share any in this post.

The house felt too empty that we decided to adopt two baby lovebirds. We need to feed them several times a day and they keep us busy (and sane, I hope), but they can’t replace my Gerry, because Gerry was my baby, my love; and we shared so many things that I couldn’t even start to write them down. Every day there was an anecdote that made the day special. We had a special connection, and now I’m lost.

So if you don’t see me commenting on your blogs, please excuse me, I am not even able to function normally, and I can’t knit or sew because I miss my sewing buddy. Even nowadays I surprise myself from time to time with some cry bursts. We installed a door where the stupid curtain used to be. But it’s too late. Too late for me, too late for him.

How to mend a broken heart?