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Sunday, September 11, 2011


Not quite a week since Mica took The Long Step. I can't stop thinking about her.

I listen for her. Her constant, nagging, bone-shivering wail ended Tuesday, but I wake up in the middle of the night, straining to hear it.

I pull food out of the refrigerator and cry when I don't have to lock her in the bathroom to keep her from eating it before I can dish it onto my own plate.

I come home and wonder why I don't have to clean up the undigested contents of her ailing stomach.
You might think I should be relieved about all this.

I'm not. Not yet.

You see, I seem to live in a fantasy world where I can heal all hurts and solve all the problems plaguing my charges. I seem to think I have the power to extend life beyond its natural bounds simply because I wish it to be so.

I don't have that power, no matter how much or how often I wish I do.

I can't keep a cat alive. I can't stop death from taking my friends one by one, not even if I had all the money or medicine in the world.

I can't stop missing them when they're gone, even if they are annoying, sickly, or troublesome in their old age.

I loved Mica. She wasn't always troublesome or sick or annoying. We had many good times known only to us.

I'm so sorry, my friend. If I had the power, I would give up some of my life to have kept you here.
You know I would.

Please forgive me.

Please let me go.


  1. I'm so sorry, Robynn. I know how you're feeling. My kitty left me a couple of months ago and I still peek in the closet now and then looking for her. I know she's healed now, and splashing water all over Jesus's kitchen floor :). But I still miss her.

  2. Oh, Robynn, your post made me cry. I know exactly how you feel. I lost my little James Potter earlier this year, and he was as troublesome as his name suggested (he once chewed off ten inches of my hair as I slept). He drove me to distraction, and I still carry guilt from it. He wasn't perfect, and neither am I, but one day, we all will be, and in that day, there will be love and understanding, and a view of a perfect eternity stretching before us, not a remembrance of the Fall behind us. Our babies have gone ahead, and they understand now that we loved them, even in our imperfection. And they have forgiven us.

  3. I know, Kat, and I'm so sorry.

    Jaime, you made me cry right back. I'm not used to guilt, and I don't like it, and that's exactly what I'm feeling.


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