A few months ago my granddaughter, Melody, was supposed to dress up for school. She knew I had a pioneer dress that I had gotten in 1976 for the bicentennial. She decided to dress as Laura Ingalls Wilder, an author that I have loved since I was very young. I read all her books several times. So I got the dress delivered, and it just melted my heart to see her in it. Melody seems to share my longtime interest in pioneer life.
Above is a photo of me wearing the dress in 1976 and Melody in 2014.
In my quest for simplicity and minimalism, I have gotten rid of a few things. Therefore, I am sure glad I saved this dress.
Thought for the day: It's surprising how much memory is built around things unnoticed at the time Barbara Kingsolver
Last evening we lost our beloved Henry. He was hit by a car while crossing the busy road in front of our house. Deep down we knew this day might come, but our brains have a way of denying the truth.
Our last day together is quite vivid which makes me feel good. He spent quite a bit of time on my lap and snuggled up to me while I was using the computer. At one point, we looked into each other's eyes. It was a moment I will cherish always.
You see, Henry wasn't just a cat; he was magic. He happened upon us at a time when we needed each other. I had recently lost my sister, and he was struggling a bit to make it in the wild. So we became friends, and at some point he decided I was trustworthy enough to enter our home. He knew he was loved enough that we wouldn't hold him captive and so he became an indoor/outdoor cat. Every time I let him out, I knew he may not come back, but I loved him so much that keeping him in wasn't an option. He thoroughly loved being outside; it gave him purpose, but he was just as happy to soak up the sun as it penetrated the dining room rug. He was somewhat like a dog in that he followed me and wanted to be in our space. He adored our dog, Maxine, and even though Maxine would nip at him on occasion, he never gave up. They ended up snuggling many times.
He wasn't just a cat; he was a messenger. He taught us hope, love and how to trust. He taught us that even though our time together might be brief, that doesn't diminish the depth of the love and bond. As I take in the void today and occasionally think I might see his sweet face at the patio door, I am able to function quite well because we had a phenomenal relationship. I realize now that it was the most pure and complete love I have ever experienced. It was a relationship in which there were no regrets because I never took him for granted. I took every opportunity to stroke him and tell him he was loved. There was no resentments and no what ifs. So because it was so blessedly complete, it seems much easier to let go.
He had many nicknames.....I called him Flotsam because he would come in with various items hanging from his fur.....he was referred to as the Gray Flash because he could often be seen darting around the yard after different animals. Brian called him my boyfriend because he knew how much I loved him. He would often sit by the patio door and watch the backyard; I would walk by and ask him if he was watching cat TV. Today Brian said that Henry made gray the most beautiful color in the world, and that is not easy to do!
So once again we experience loss; the longer you live, and the harder you love equates to more grief. On the other hand, not one fiber of me would give up one moment with our magic cat.
Thought for the day: "It is a fearful thing to love what death can touch."
