I came across these words that I wrote in December, 2007. As love and it's power to heal and guide us has been much on my mind as of late, and my words written almost 5 years ago hold as true for me today, I decided to share them with you.
"As I write this words today, my heart is heavy with
loss. My beloved cat Lilly, died
yesterday and this is my first day without her in 14 years. Her companion, Simon, and I, are a
great comfort to one another this Sunday, and yet, nothing today, can take away
the deep sadness within me. She is
gone.
Ever since the day she wandered into my house from the back
yard and took her “rightful” place on the chair I had just purchased from a
thrift store, she ruled the house with a stern benevolence. If anyone dared to sit in her chair,
she would circle it, eyes glaring up at the interloper, her message crystal
clear. It was rare for
someone not to make a hasty retreat for another place to sit. She had mellowed in her last couple of
years, and one of my friends who had experienced her wrath early on and loved
her for it, told me to tell her that she didn't hold her former behavior against her!
She and I had a wonderful last day together. She was on her chair throne, and I just
feet away preparing food for an early Christmas dinner to be held on Saturday
with my dear friends Bon and Hil and my goddaughter, Sarah. As I chopped the onion and celery and
mushrooms and prepared the bread cubes using the recipe for the dressing I had
eaten all through my childhood, I talked to Lilly about my mother and how sad I
was still, deep in my bones, that I had not been with her when she died. I told Lilly how very, very happy I was that such a fine cat as she had adopted me. Although I am not at all certain that it is not the chair
she adopted and that I came along, perhaps, as what I am pretty sure turned out
to be pleasant surprise. She
miraculously had her appetite back that day and I let her eat as many of her
treats as she wanted, her “brother” Simon being the beneficiary of her windfall
as well. Bon, who is a vet, came
up that day to look at her and we both decided that that day was not the day
for her to leave this world. But
when I woke on Saturday she was looking poorly and I made arrangement for Bon
to come back to the house and together we sat on the floor next to her in her
chair and Bon euthanized her.
We moved her to the floor and her brother and the two of us stayed with
her for quite some time. Simon
licked her ear several times and stayed close. I carried her on my lap on the drive to Bon and Hil’s in
Woodside and we buried her along their front walkway surrounded by trees and
flowering plants and bushes. She
is next to their cat, Fifi, who was also a formidable personality in life. We felt they would have a lot of good
stories to share about how they were able to keep their humans in line.
I reflect this day on the capacity for the human heart to
break and mend, break and mend, over and over again. I believe it is love that brings resilience to the
heart, the very thing that keeps it from being just an organ that shrivels and
dries up and rattles around in our body from misuse. And it is the very thing that brings us to our knees. I believe that love is what makes
the earth spin and water turn to snow, and love that sets the moon on its
course. All is governed by
it, even if we never let it in.
For me, animals have been my guides in this life. They have led me down a path of rocky
hope that time and time again leads to a renewal of faith and trust. They have taught me that it is
worthwhile to turn over our hearts.
To allow our hearts their freedom and their great wisdom as wild and
worthy teachers.
In honor of Lilly this Sunday, I offer you these final words
by Sue Monk Kidd from her book The Dance of the Dissident Daughter.
“Maybe in the end we cannot make healing happen; perhaps it
is, after all, a grace. But we can
put ourselves in its path.”
In honor of my Lilly girl today, put yourself in the path of
healing. Love well and with
reckless abandon."
Suki
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