Book Three

Sunset from Hawaii's Big Island, understanding what this next phase is all about.

If moving to Mozambique was Book One, moving to California and starting art school was Book Two, then this is Book Three. I am still based in the Bay Area but the cast of characters is significantly different, as is my perspective. I feel deeply moved to write these days, but found myself questioning whether it was right to continue blogging here, in this space that is all about homes I no longer live in, a career I no longer have, and a man I am no longer married to.

Despite all that has changed, this is still the place where I feel the most comfortable sharing, documenting, and processing my life. I remind myself there is no "wrong" in continuing to write my own story, even if the space is imbued in memories of Books One and Two. What a blessing, really, to have this record to look back upon.

Thirteen years have gone by since I started this blog on a rainy evening in Austin. I am now 36, working as an artist and translator, married to a soulful Brazilian cinematographer named Roberto. We met in San Francisco through a mutual friend, a beautiful story for another day. We live in a light-filled apartment about 10 minutes away from my mom's house. My days are spent making jewelry and painting in my studio, interpreting in hospitals and at welfare appointments, and translating technical documents. Roberto spends his time going to ESL school and working on various film and video projects. Life is good.

At some point I'll share some photos, perhaps from our wedding at City Hall, or from recent travel to Hawaii, New Mexico, and Italy/Slovenia. And I'll share stories. There are SO many stories from the last two years that I want to get out before the details dull. But for now, a small synopsis of Book Three thus far:

• I healed my heart from the end of a marriage, relationship, partnership, and friendship
• I lived with my mom for 1.5 years for the first time since I was 15
• I started working as an interpreter
• I reconnected with my roots in the Italy/Slovenia border region
• I opened myself to finding love again, and did!
• I lived in San Francisco for 6 months with Roberto in a shared apartment in the very foggy Outer Richmond neighborhood, and eventually rented a place of our own in the East Bay. 
• I realized that I want to be a mother. 
• We got pregnant!!
• We found out at 13 weeks that our baby had Turner's Syndrome and the pregnancy was not viable.
• We lost the baby at 14 weeks.
• We got married!! (Very strange to be celebrating and grieving at the same time).
• I have a new name - Ali Ambrosio!!
• My dad was diagnosed with cancer (again) and had major surgery. Thankfully he's now recovering.
• Roberto had a heart attack (he is 40 and otherwise healthy) and we discovered he has several congenital heart defects. So so so grateful he received treatment and is now seemingly okay.
• Contemplated moving to the Big Island of Hawaii (the tropics were calling big time, but we realized our destiny is elsewhere)
• Currently figuring out how to make life work in the Bay Area, with a medium-term plan to spend half our time in Italy/Slovenia.

So far Book Three has been dizzyingly intense. You can understand why I need to write again. Looking forward to sharing here frequently, I've missed blogging and missed interacting with you, my lovely readers, if any of you are still out there after all this time. :)

Spreading Love All Over the World

Caricature my friend Rrramone did of me back in 2006. I was living in Maputo at the time.  I definitely feel like this.

As you can imagine, I am going through a roller coaster of emotions these days. But mostly I feel peace and excitement, and lots of love amid heartache.

For many years the thing I most feared was not being together with Rico. I knew how much it would hurt for us to break up. I felt the weight of the multiple personal-family-business connections our parting would disrupt. Rico works with my family. My mom is his boss. My aunt and uncle are the investors in the businesses they run together. (Rico and my mom actually are involved in three different businesses together, all under the same big umbrella though...) Also, there is the small detail of me wanting to make a living as an artist and translator and traveler, which is not always easy even with a gainfully employed partner.

And of course there is a geographic component to how connected we are. My mom lives just up the hill from us, so it's about 3 minutes walking to get from one house to the next. My studio is in my mom's basement. My gallery is downtown, two blocks from the clocks and home decor business Rico now runs (one of the above-mentioned businesses). Rico's mom lives 10 minutes down the road by car, near the marina.

Everything is together. Has been together. Is always together. Family, business, not wanting to intrude, having to always strategize, compartmentalize personal and professional, put up limits but also have no definition to what is family and what is business.

Rico and I started out working together, as you know. Living together. Being 100% together from the moment I set foot in Mozambique. We were a team on all fronts. We continue to be a team on all fronts. We are a really good match, life partners is how it feels. We could run the world together, that's for sure.

So all of this to say...deciding to separate was excruciatingly hard and took a long time for me to find clarity about what I was feeling. But, after a long summer and winter and start of spring examining ourselves and our relationship, Rico and I looked at each other a couple Sundays ago and just knew. It was over. We have evolved into something new, whatever's next.

It is one of the greatest gifts I've ever felt to know that he and I are at peace. That we see eye to eye and feel heart to heart about where we started and where we are now ending. That we are separating but the other interconnected layers of our lives can continue, will continue.

Likely there will be better harmony there, as well. I really like Rico's mom, for example, but it's a bummer to hang out with your mother-in-law when you are contemplating the impending breakup with her son. So she and I can hang out now like I imagine we've both always wanted to. Having fun. Dancing somewhere. I can hang out with my mom again and have it be just mom. I'm not self-censoring all the time, we can travel to Italy together, eat and drink and visit and hike. Enjoy life.

I am in awe to see how many of the other relationships in my life have also healed in the wake of me and Rico separating - and also of my grandma passing away. Gina, my mom's mom, finally let go at age 94 and went to have a party with all her friends up in the sky from Italy and all around the world who have been waiting for her arrival.  So after my grandma passing and then Rico and I separating, I have experienced so much healing, so much closeness and authenticity with the people I love. I am grateful for all the support and to be able to be real with my people, without walls around my heart and constantly putting up a positive front.

Gina Paola Cantoni. 1922-2016. I look a lot like her and have inherited many of her traits and interests.

Also, conveniently, people can give double condolences to the family. Sorry about Gina. Sorry about Rico and Ali.

I've been meeting the most incredible strangers lately, too, as a bonus gift from the universe. People with whom I can share a moment or two whenever paths randomly cross in a café or restaurant or while listening to live music. Travel reminds me to disconnect from the phone and be a person in the present moment. Eye contact. Breath. Sand. Saying hello and good morning. Smiling whenever people pass me to see who I can get to smile back. Spreading love all over the world.

Mano and Nina

Friends, say hello to Mano (the white one with black spots) and Nina (the one all black on top, white on the bottom). They are just over 6 weeks old now, and we are absolutely loving them. These little kittens have, without a doubt, been the best thing possible for the hole in our hearts left by Parceiro's death.

We took the kittens home at 5 weeks, due to what we deemed iffy circumstances at the farm where they were being raised, and they have adapted beautifully to our little home. We kept Mano and Nina in isolation for the first week so they could acquire the smell of our flat and have a chance to grow a bit before being introduced to big cat Pria.

Two days ago, we took the plunge and put everyone together for the first time. We had low expectations (from the internet, and previous disastrous cat introductions, we learned that Tolerance was a reasonable hope for the cats old and new), and were frankly prepared for the worst. My mom was predicting a pissing fest, the result of all the 3-cat homes we ever had while I was a child. My dad was slightly more optimistic, but noted that it took their 3 cats quite a while before they stopped hissing and spitting.

In fact, the first moments were a bit rough. Mano was much more agressive than we'd have predicted, and hissed quite a bit in Pria's face. Pria, for her part, was not amused, and got out the old pata for a few retalliatory swipes. Nina, poor thing, is the true definition of a scaredy cat, and just froze in her tracks when confronted by Pria, tail puffed out to the maximum. For most of the afternoon, Pria just lay on the table observing the seemingly offensive intruders. Rico and I were satisfied, as at least they weren't fighting (or pissing).

What we could never have expected, however, was that it would only take 1.5 days for the kittens and Pria to get on splendidly. Last night, Rico called me excitedly into the living room where he'd found our big Gato Preto affectionately licking and cleaning Mano and Nina. Pria was playing the role of Momma Cat for the first time since Parceiro came home from Day 1 at the vet. It made me cry, from happiness, as well as from the realization that Parceiro is truly gone.

I admit I had a good cry last night missing Parceiro. He will never be replaced, and we know that. But it is wonderful to have Mano and Nina, and Pria is undoubtedly much happier as well. We sensed she had a bit of a hole in her heart as well, and it seems that was the case given how amazingly she's taken to the kittens.

Tonight we are making pizza, and watching tv on the bed as a happy family - Patrão, Patroa, Pria, and the two Gatos Pequenos.

Mano and Nina on their first day at home on our verandah (5 weeks)

Enjoying some onion-free baby food.

Not quite used to sticky foods yet, so there was a lot of lip-licking involved

This afternoon, lounging on the bed. They have grown so much!

Making pizza dough while wearing the apron my mom gave me for Christmas (I obviously didn't wait for the appropriate day to open my gift!)

Missing P.

Today I've been hit with a wave of grief, the strongest one since the initial sadness of losing Parceiro passed. I've felt like crying all day, and can't stop thinking about the fact that our boy suffered 3 very painful days before letting go. I know there were tons of good times, and that these years of love and enjoyment far outweigh temporary suffering, but still. God it hurts! I miss Parceiro so much, and even now can't really believe he's gone.

I won't turn this into a cat-mourning blog, but man today has been tough.

Moving Forward

It seems like an entire year has gone by since Parceiro died last Tuesday. We commemorated the week anniversary of his passing, and I felt mostly disbelief, not the sadness and raw emotion that marked the first days after he decided to go. I thought I'd have a transition from crying my way through the day, to feeling more-or-less sad, to bittersweetly remembering Parceiro. What has happened, however, was an abrupt jump from being devastated to feeling distant, removed, and almost numb. I recognize that I am sad, and that I am probably in the depression stage of grief, but it almost seems like the whole thing with Parceiro never even happened.

Meh. I'm trying to "snap out of it", but it's hard...I imagine that a proper ceremony to put him to rest will help, but his body was sent for cremation to some state-run institution (the Veterinary School?), and we've yet to receive his ashes. The vet seems hopeful that they will come, but I am quite cynical about the possibility that it will all work out as planned. Who knows...

This week has been a long one in other ways as well. Work was slightly stressful, with a quarterly program report and an extension proposal to prepare. It is hard depending on other people for the inputs you need to do your own job properly, especially when you feel like some of them have it out for you. In general I really like my colleagues at the new job, but there is one guy in particular who has a personality and general attitude towards work (and/or towards me) that I find exasperating. I know it's part of an office job that you have to learn how to work with difficult coworkers and bosses, but it's been quite a while since I've worked at a real, honest-to-God, full-time job. I forgot what drama can occur.

It's been raining a lot in Maputo lately, realy dreary weather. It's common this time of year, at the beginning of the rainy/monsoon season. Still, the gray-blah outside doesn't really help my mood. It's been good for the farmers, though. They were expecting a drought in Southern Mozambique this year, and I heard many people say the rains would't come until January (they're meant to arrive in October). They were a bit late, and I'm not sure how total rainfall for the year measures up, but at least there is some moisture for the crops. The rain is not good news, however, for my struggling veranda garden. My pots are soaked through from the sideways rain that makes its way in, and I'm worried I will lose the chocolate mint, hibiscus and basil I just planted last week, despite the fact that they are water-loving plants.

Rico and I continue to do home improvements. We had our kitchen and bathroom painted this week. For the kitchen, I chose a pale green (creatively called "Pastel Green" by the manufacturer). We have gray-toned tiles and marble countertops, and the room tends to be hot, so I knew I needed a cool color. I've never had a green kitchen before. I rather like how it turned out. It has a retro feel that is going to be fun to work with. For the bathroom, I chose a tan-ish pinky beige color called "Pale Mushroom" (they were more inspired with this name). It transformed what was a grotty, dirty-looking, 70's-leftover bathroom into one that is almost spa-inspired. Now my next project is to bleach our nice heavyweight cotton shower curtain so that I get rid of the blue and purple print. I think I can do it, though my last experience trying to bleach something tured out disastrously, with a stained red Banana Republic shirt disintegrating instead of just fading to white. I may have to experiment a bit until I get the right proportion of bleach:water.

Tonight Rico and I are going to a braai with friends. I'm not feeling particularly social, but I know once we are there I will enjoy myself. I also plan on making a lot of jewelry, as the year-end demand for pieces is picking up faster than I can keep up!

Hope you all are well...

Home Improvements

They say one of the best ways to manage grief is to keep yourself busy. We've certainly been trying...

Last night we went to a birthday party at Rodízio, which was super nice in terms of the company and the food, but the service was lamentable. When you are paying about US$35 per person in Maputo, you expect the service to be decent, but this was really a let-down. Still, it got us out of the house, which was good.

Today Rico and I ran errands. We bought paint for the bathroom and kitchen (pale mushroom, a tan-pink color for the former, and pastel green, a spring green with a bit of yellow, for the latter) from my old paint client from my days doing investment analysis at the BIC. We went to Casa Paris and bought fabric to re-upholster our living room chairs (heavy brocade with shiny tan stripes - Rico is doing the work himself). We went to the plant nursery at Kaya Kwanga and I bought rosemary, chocolate mint and parsley for my herb garden, as well as a beautiful oversized orange hibiscus. We also stopped by GAME for some wine, an upholstery gun, and toilet paper.

This evening we are going to go for a drink at this new bar/café that opened on Av. Julius Nyerere with a few friends...keep ourselves busy.

I am still super sad about Parceiro, but am over the hump of crying every minute of every day. Now, I miss my boy, but I'm mostly worried about Pria. She's definitely realized that Parceiro is gone, and wanders around the house crying and trying to find him. It is heartbreaking. I can't wait for the requisite 1-2 months to pass so we can get a new kitten. It will not be a replacement for Parceiro - far from it - but I think a new spirit in our lives will be a good way to move on. I just wish it could be now!

Parceiro, Muito Obrigado!

Rico wrote this tribute to Parceiro this afternoon. We are making a real effort to concentrate on the positive, and on the good times shared together. Thank you all for your kind comments. We will get through this!

Hi my gray baby. Thank you for being part of my life. Thank you for bringing so much joy to our house and making Ali so happy. Thank you for showing me how nice cats can be. If your purpose in life was to make me like cats, you did a superb job. I am sure you enjoyed your life as much as we enjoyed having you playing around, sleeping inside drawers, running desperately for your food – like it was always your last meal – especially junk food. And, of course, your face with your eyes closed in ecstasy when making torties in fleeces. It’s been only two days since you left us and the house is pretty sad. But it is time to move on. I am sure that’s what you want. And you want us to remember how happy you were here and keep in our minds the great moments we had together. We will, Parceirinho! Thank you my companheiro.

Denial / Guilt / Depression

My waves of grief are oscillating between these three stages right now. I don't really feel anger yet, unless you count grief as the by-product of anger turned inwards.

The mornings are especially hard. I miss Parceiro cuddled up next to my stomach. His sweet face and torties would help dissipate my morning grouchiness without fail. I miss him dashing between my legs at feeding time; I noticed that I'd adapted my way of walking and widened my steps almost like a cowboy so that Parceiro could run through my legs without me kicking him or tripping over my own feet.

I am a bit in denial in the sense that I keep expecting to see Parceiro throughout the house. I see the mirage of two hungry cats crouched over the food bowl. I see his presence waiting outside the bathroom door while I have a shower. I keep waiting for him to walk around the corner, or to hear the sound of him sharpening his claws on the wicker furniture.

The guilt mostly revolves around not having made more of an effort to get him on the proper treatment as soon as possible. When his first crystal episode cleared up, I figured he'd be fine. We kept him on the regular food until it was convenient for us to purchase the prescription food in South Africa. We didn't make the effort to cross the border ourselves, and instead relied on friends to try and find the food when they'd go across for work or visa renewals. Finally it was my old boss, Hugh Marlboro, who got Parceiro's food. He only managed to get the C/D, because the S/D - what our boy really needed - had to be special ordered in Nelspruit. Hugh Marlboro got the S/D food finally, and in a terrible irony, we sent our taxi driver Zeca to Matola to pick up the food the morning Parceiro died.

I know we did the best we could with the information and resources we had available. Still, I know that if we'd known how serious Parceiro's condition was (or could have become), Rico and I would have dropped everything to go across the border and find the food he needed.

More than anything, I feel depression and numbness creeping in. I have no appetite, and have lost several pounds since Sunday when this all began. I remember sitting at the new vet's office during one of Parciero's treatments. I was meditating, praying and bargaining with the universe for our baby to get well. At one point I offered up the following deal: if Parceiro gets well, I will stop worrying about my weight and be happy with an extra 5 pounds. I was at the point where I was willing to accept gaining weight - one of my greatest fears and causes of depression in life - in order for our Gato Gray to pull through. Now, I don't even care about my weight loss. It seems so futile in the face of what has happened.

All I want to do these days is watch mindless tv and surf the internet. It helps to be distracted. Blogging helps, too, though every time I read my posts about Parceiro - especially the comments - I start crying again. Having your support is wonderful, but it reminds me that this is all real. I know accepting what has happened and acknowleging your feelings is part of making it through grief, but it hurts so much.

The First Morning

Yesterday was such a hard day. Rico and I are both completely devastated by the loss of Parceiro, and we've been struggling with intense waves of grief.

Friends poured in as they heard the news. Jenny and Paco brought us flowers and chocolates and beer. Lindsey brought beer and food. Kelly and Marcos brought a beaded wire angel for us to remember our boy (which Pria immediately batted off the table and began chasing around the living room). Sheila and Deepak brought sandwiches and cookies from Nautilus, and more beer. It was actually really nice to be in the company of so many people, especially since they are all animal lovers and a couple knew Parceiro pretty well.

Rico had an especially tough night. He talked in his sleep nonstop, and kept repeating scenes aloud from the vet, or as if he were talking to Parceiro. At one point he even slapped my face (in his sleep, mind you), as if trying to wake me up, and kept repeating "hang on! hang on!".

The thing I am struggling the most with at this point, beyond the sheer sadness of not having our boy around, is guilt. I know it's not helpful to beat one's self up over the past, over things that cannot be changed. Still, I keep thinking about the last few weeks. Parceiro was already on his C/D diet, and seemed to be his regular playful, sweet self. He was eating and drinking, and didn't appear to be sick. However, I saw him a couple of times straining to pee while in the litter box, lingering in there much longer than normal. I just assumed that he was peeing okay, albeit with some difficulty, and that the prescription food would do the trick. He was also licking himself a lot, but I just figured it was part of the process. My warning sign that would trigger a trip to the vet was when Parceiro would pee outside the box. Since he hadn't gone outside the box, I thought we were okay.

I know now how horribly wrong I was. I wish I'd taken him to the vet sooner. I wish we'd known about Dr. Isabel and Dr. Sergio earlier, so that perhaps we would have understood better Parceiro's condition and whether it was serious a few weeks ago, and if there was something that could have been done. It kills me to think that I was in some way negligent, ignoring the cries for help from our boy.

He's gone now, and in a better place, and I just have to keep thinking about that. Last night Rico and I imagined Parceiro in a world filled with fleece blankets and packaged cat treats. The land of fleece and junk.

I miss him so much. I know with time this will get easier, but right now I am completely overwhelmed by our loss.

Remembering Parceiro

This afternoon our sweet Parceiro knew it was time to let go. After the long road we've been on, he had a heart attack at the vet's office, and died in Rico's arms. We are unspeakably sad, but take comfort in the fact that Parceiro is no longer suffering.

We thought he was doing better. He made it through the night, and woke up this morning meowing and howling and complaining about his pain. Rico and I thought this was a good sign, as it meant he was reactive and had some energy to spare. Rico took Parceiro to the vet for a consult at 9am, and while his bladder was pretty full, it wasn't necessary to do a catheter or give him anesthesia again (he'd already had 5 doses since Sunday). Rico took him home, with instructions to come back at 6pm for another checkup and an enema.

After the trip to the vet, Rico met me at the coffee shop downstairs from my office for some juice and a sandwich. Things seemed normal. We chatted. We talked about how grateful we were that our Gray Baby was going to be okay.

A few hours later, Rico called me, his voice full of worry. He said Parceiro was purring softly, and making subtle torties (what we call that kneading cats do - a derivative of making tortillas, from my childhood). Rico said it seemed different from the purring Parceiro had done on Sunday in the throes of the blockage, but wasn't sure. We decided just to keep an eye on our boy, to see if there were any other signs that he was getting worse. A while later, Rico noticed Parceiro's back legs seemed like they were giving out when he tried to walk. He knew it was time to go back to the vet.

It was time. Parceiro knew. His little heart gave out while on the clinic table. He had seizures, and the vet did CPR (brining him back several times), but it was just too much. He let go while in Rico's arms, knowing that he was surrounded by people that loved and cared for him.

Rico came to my office to tell me, and I burst into tears. It was all so surreal. Sunday, when we first thought we were going to lose our Gato Gray, seems light-years away. Thankfully my boss understands what it means to have a pet you love very much pass away, and he let me go home for the rest of the day.

Rico and I cried - and continue to cry - over the loss of our boy. The flat seems empty. I feel lost, overcome with grief. Perhaps one of the worst parts of this is that Pria and Parceiro were so close. I don't think poor Pria fully understands what has happened yet, and I'm worried about the effect losing his brother will have on him.

Still, while there is a gaping hole in our hearts, the flat is still full of Parceiro's spirit and reminders of the good times we had together. For someone who started out life in a plastic bag in a dumpster in Maputo, I think he had a pretty delicious run.

We will always remember Parceiro for being the sweetest cat to grace our lives. He was a true companion, companheiro, following us around and always eager to curl up in a lap or in the bend of a knee. One of my favorite things to do was pile onto the single bed in our guest room - me, Rico and Parceiro - all cuddled up together with him doing endless torties on the soft parts of my stomach, or on the fleece blanket we'd use to cover ourselves on chilly nights.

Parceiro had such a love for fleece. It was like a beacon, calling him to make torties. He'd sit and knead, a look of complete ecstacy on his little face, eyes half-shut in pleasure.

We used to call him Meiote, a funny nickname that came from the fact that Parceiro's favorite spot to sleep was shoved inbetween me and Rico, no matter how small the space. Every night he'd come searching for his meio, his middle spot. He was our Filhote Meiote, our baby-cat who loved his nest.

He also loved toilet paper, and between Parceiro scrabbling the entire roll whenever given the opportunity, and Pria opening the bathroom door, we had to switch the lever knob for a round one so the boys couldn't do their damage.

Parceiro and Pria had a beautiful relationship, having started life at the bottom of the bin and surviving because of each other. When our friend Brooke first found them as kittens, Parceiro had managed to chew a hole in the plastic bag where they'd been tossed out to die, and had made it onto the ground outside the bin. But what caught Brooke's attention as she walked by was an insistent mewling. It was Pria, still in the bag, crying out for someone to save them.

They had a special connceciton from the very beginning. The would play together, friendly tail-chasing sessions frequently turning into full-on feline jiu-jitsu, madly tumbling around the carpet and scrambling across the house like they were posessed. The jiu-jitsu would then turn into grooming, as if someone had flipped a switch. The would lick each other's faces simultaneously, grooming each other with much love until the switch would go again and it would be back to the wrestling on the rug.

Parceiro had the sweetest meow. It was like "maow-maow! maow-maow!", cute and high-pitched, while Pria has an ambulance drone of a meow, one you simply can't ignore. Parceiro loved stretching out in the sun, cramping himself into boxes, lounging on the sofa next to me or Rico while we worked. He was an incredibly sweet boy. He will truly be missed.

While we are grieving Parceiro, our worry is also with Pria. We are concerned about what her reaction will be once she realizes that her companion is gone. We think that, once we've had a chance to grieve and once Pria has ahd a chance to realize what the situation is, we will start to look for a new kitten. Companionship is good, even if it might start off a bit rocky. A new kitty will not be a substitute for our Gato Gray, but it will help to heal the void in our hearts and lives.

Parceiro brought us immense joy and happiness. He was one of the reasons I looked forward to waking up every morning, and coming home each night. He was our beautiful gray baby, and will forever be remembered fondly. We are going to do a small ceremony with his ashes. Rico and I will go to the seaside and prepare a farewell care package for our boy. We will put some toilet paper, a canned food treat and a square off one of our fleece blankets in a small paper package - all of Parceiro's favorite things. We will put our gray baby to rest at sea with everything he loved so much in life. I hope it bring us come closure and some peace. I hope Parceiro is looking over us, knowing he will be present always in our lives.

I loved him dearly, and miss him with all my heart. I hope he is in a better place, and am grateful that he chose to go on his own. It was time, and if he knew it, then we must accept it.

Thank you all for your kind thoughts and prayers. They were greatly appreciated, and I am sure they helped make Parceiro more comfortable in his last days.