One year. The passage of time. Today is one year since our sweet baby kitty, Augie, died suddenly and unexpectedly from a horrible disease. His death began an ordeal for us that we are honestly still trying to recover from, mentally, physically, emotionally, financially. The backstory can be found here.
It seemed that his death set off a year, a chain of events that sent us into darkness. A year of tragedy, of trials, hardships and challenges. Pain, grief, and struggle. I could go back even farther, though, to three years ago tomorrow, when Brian’s Aunt Kris (to whom we were very close) died unexpectedly and tragically. October. What is it about October?
I feel like I’m standing still in October. Everyday for the past year has been tinged with, overshadowed by, October. But the world moves on around me. And this year milestone has loomed over me.
Let go, but hang on.
How do you do that? How do you make your flawed heart, your broken and grieving heart, begin to try to cling to the light along the edges of the darkness? Light and dark have become a rhythm of our daily life, a presence we are constantly learning from. This ever-circling presence forces us to be patient, to be present, and to surrender and accept. You can still grow in the darkest of corners, and eventually, you may be able to see the beauty in your wounds. One day, I may realize that I’ve moved past something without realizing I’ve turned. Maybe one day, even October’s clouds will show me their golden lining.
It is a hard road getting there. And I’m still traveling it.
I will always love and miss our sweet Augie. You see, losing him was the equivalent to losing a child, for Brian and me. We don’t (and won’t) have human children, so from our perspective, and from our experience, this is it. Loving, nurturing and bonding with him, only to have him taken away. I will cry and grieve him and miss him for the rest of my life. That’s what love does to you. He was important, and he mattered. I grieve because he mattered. He always will. And in his sweet memory, we continue on for the rest of our cats, our babies. We let go, but hang on.
“If I never see you again
I will always carry you
on my fingertips
and at brain edges
and in centers
of what I am of