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.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
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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.
ReplyDeleteOh, 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.
ReplyDeleteI know, Kat, and I'm so sorry.
ReplyDeleteJaime, 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.