Your kitteh-kah is still missing. Momma has left his bowl and water bottle system sitting "as is." Every day I come home and check the kitchen window where he used to wait to come in...it has never occurred to Momma that he might not be there. Hope abounds. For now.
Loss is so unique. So situational. Thus, the title of today's letter. It is like a snowflake with its own special design...no one loss is like the other. The loss of a pet, a parent, a sibling, a son. The way we grieve, the way we mourn, the way we work through our process is...well...it is ours to own.
With Zeke I have no sense of closure. No sense of what might have happened or if he could possibly come back home some day.
With you I was a witness. An unwilling participant. I knew from the moment I saw your eyes that morning that you were gone. Yet, I still had hope until the ER doctors pronounced your death.
But with both of you I struggle with the reality of my own failure. Failure to protect you from pain or fear or whatever unknown force took you from us. SUDC stole you...I have no idea what took Zeke. A hawk? Coyote? A stranger in the neighborhood?
I am sure it seems silly to compare the loss of Zeke - a cat - to your loss, but they are very closely related in Momma's heart. You both looked to me for protection. You both saw me as a Momma. And now you are both gone.
Tonight, while I picture you hanging Christmas lights in heaven, I also envision your kitteh-kah batting those same lights delighting you and your angel friends.
Peanut, I love you - to the mooooooon and back!