... better.

[crowdog66]

First day back to work after Micawber's death. It was hard -- kept being hit with memories, random emotions, images of his lifeless body in comparison to his healthy, loving energy -- but I got through it without crying and ruining my speaking voice.

Talking it over with my husband, I can see that we're both circling between opposite poles of intense emotion: the pain of loss and the recognition that Micawber had a truly wonderful life. As George says: "We're not crying for him -- we're crying for ourselves."

For glancing up from making a meat sandwich and expecting to see a certain expectant grey head in the kitchen doorway. For sitting down on the couch and making a lap that is never filled with warm, solid, purring affection. For seeing the brown blanket (Micawber's favorite) spread out on the bed and realizing that we'll never, ever again see him curled up in a blissful crescent, sleeping the afternoon away.

Emmie... she's just not the same type of cat. We're hoping that Micawber's absence will actually be a *good* thing for her -- that it will give her a few years to blossom, out from under his shadow of dominance.

Overall, we're better. "Give death his due..." Yes, and never let it ruin that life that remains.

Comments

[metisbutterfly.livejournal.com]

George's wise words made me think of the poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins, "Spring and Fall", this exerpt in particular:

"Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for."

When we mourn, a big piece of this is mourning ourselves. I know when my Grandma passed away, I was fraught with lots of emotions..shock, disbelief, sadness, emptiness, guilt. Never again would Grandma read my tea leaves, or tell me about her family. Never again would I burst out laughing at one of her sarcastic jokes, share a bottle of wine with her, or listen to her deep French accent.

I know it still is hard to get used to. My mom used to go there every day and call her every night to check on her. Still, i refrain from calling my mom til 6 sometimes because "She won't be home from Grandma's yet" or go past her apartment and think of it as "Grandma's house". Seeing her right after her death and in her coffin and trying to reconcile these images with the fiesty, tiny fireball that I knew and loved are tough.

I read somewhere that as we live, we give away pieces of ourselves and these peices live on in others. People at the funeral looked at me and saw my Grandma's face, heard her spark in my voice and saw it in my smile. I hear my Grandma's stories from my mother's lips, the good and the bad, and sometimes when she looks at me over her glasses a certain way it's like Grandma is looking back. Her friends remember her laughter, her constant singing and poetry, her dancing at jigging contests til she was quite old and her love for life and for people.

While i agree with what you said in a post about giving animals their due as animals and not humanizing them or attempting to (my professor in my Aboriginal class said this is part of many Aboriginal spiritualities and part of the Medicine Wheel teachings..to respect and love animals AS ANIMALS), i do think animals give a special love and memory on earth. And with respect to our beloved pets, a lot of that is due to the care and love we gave them on earth. And i know Mr.Micawber was one of the very luckiest and loved cats that I knew..I remember his watchful eye as we would have tea in your dining room, or feeding him bits of pork at your feasts as his bright eyes watched eagerly. I remember his beautiful colors and his peaceful sleep on your couch. It was through your love for animals and cats in particular that I got my wonderful Salem, who is a family member and inseperable from me now.

Your love and dedication to animals has touched so many lives, and this lives on. My field instructor was just saying the other day that none of us "knows" for sure what happens in the afterlife, but if we can leave behind good memories and be remembered with joy, that is the best we can hope for in this life.

You loved Micawber enough to look beyond your own grief and pain and to speak up for this dear cat's suffering and to say this was enough, to let him go with dignity. That was incredibly brave and beautiful of you and George to do this. You looked beyond self-mourning to do what was best for Micawber.

Your memories of your dear Micawber made me cry for your pain, they were so raw in their eloquence. Keep those memories in your heart even if they hurt, and never stop loving in the free and respectful way that you do for animals. All the cats you've cared for over the years spread their love to others, and that is something that lives on.

With blessings,
Jillian