Winter garden

We recently picked the last blue daisies from Sassy's garden and helped the garden "go to rest" for winter. This included digging up the dahlia bulbs for storage (a new concept for me - so hopefully they will make it through winter), amending the soil in that part of the garden, and putting mulch over the whole thing to finalize for winter. So what remains are two lovely lavender bushes, the ceramic duck and a ceramic pink flower, all in the heart-shaped garden with Sassy's memorial stone.

I thought I would be sad at the changing of the season (and a part of me is eternally sad at the loss of Sassy), yet there was something comforting about tidying up her garden and letting it rest for winter. It reminds me of the end of her life here with us -- she was so tired and ill; intermingled with the raw grief of parting ways, there was a warm comfort in knowing she could rest now free of disease and suffering.

I've read a lot on the Lymphoma Loss group recently of individuals who have recently lost their beloved furry baby. Reading these posts reminds me of how painful it is to say goodbye. It also renews my love and my remembering of Sassy through thought, writing and of course, her garden. Our time together was too short yet there is definitely a timelessness of our love.

Happy birthday Sassy!

Happy 7th Birthday to Sassy! Tim and I acknowledged what would have been Sassy's 7th birthday today by looking through her scrapbook. Although so much healing has happened since she died last year, and we know she's in a better place, there will always be I guess a sadness in missing her, our beloved special girl.

Tim didn't know her when she was a kitten and so it was fun to revisit photos of her the size of a muffin following Grayson everywhere. She definitely was THE emblem of love if ever there was one, and continues to be that emblem.

Dedication

Sassy's heart-shaped memorial garden is complete and we had a silent dedication ceremony at sunset tonight. The two kittens who remind me most of her, Jacques and Emma, frolicked and cuddled around us as we remembered Sassy. One year ago tonight/tomorrow morning, Sassy left us to go onward in her journey (she died somewhere in the middle of the night with Tim, Grayson and I sleeping next to her). Seeing the abundance of flowers, in all their brilliance, glory, and beauty reflects all her best qualities infinitely. She is my soul mate. I love you Sassy and miss you deeply. I hold you in my heart every single day.

Remembering Sassy

We just ordered an engraved river stone, with this image, from Old World Stones. This will go in Sassy's memorial garden. Ground has been broken on the garden as of this past weekend and flowers have been planted. I'll post pictures soon. Her garden includes dahlias, lavender, and other colorful flowers. We also hope to add a little bird bath since she loved saying hello to her bird friends (unlike the hunter Grayson, Sassy would gallop towards the birds and then wonder why they all flew away).

I tried to push myself to do these things 8 or 9 months ago when she had just died and I couldn't. I'm shown once again how grieving takes its own path and is a never-ending process. I had the energy and focus these past 2 weeks to really pour my heart into sweet Sassy's memory.

Surprises

I developed a roll of film last week that I thought were shots of the kittens. I usually use a digital camera but occasionally still use my 35mm Minolta to capture fast action, since kittens do move quite quickly.

I went to pick up the photos and opened the package while my husband was getting a prescription filled. I almost fell over. It was an entire roll of film shot of Sassy 2 years go that I had never gotten developed.

At first, the photos just shook my grief, like someone shaking a tree. It took stable ground out from under me. But then I looked at the photos more carefully and just basked in the beauty and that special connection that Sassy and I share. This was a very wonderful gift to receive, long after she was physically gone.

Living on

My grief has been dormant, just like the winter invites so many things to go dormant, at least for a while. The kittens - Jacques, Emma, and Sydney (Baby Bear has a proper name now) are 8 pound whoppers suddenly. Their baby days seemed to have passed so quickly. Despite their growing size, they are still babies though and always will be. Still, daily memories of Sassy persist, many of them happy. Lately though, I have been remembering her diagnosis and the progression of her illness. I just wish I could go back in time and be there for her even more. It's odd to wish for this because as my husband points out, we really did try our best the first time around. What I long for truly I guess is to sit next to her again, and pet her beautiful fur, and to bring her comfort. We shared a special connection. I notice more and more though that that connection lives on, in my heart and just in general of course, but also it seems to live on in Jacques. I feel like Sassy sent him to me to carry on, to live on. The way he looks and some of his mannerisms are the same, and particularly his gentle spirit seems to emulate Sassy's. This is a huge comfort and a huge connection, as I continue to learn more and live on.

New life

Right after my birthday in July, I went to the SPCA here in town to put in some volunteer time visiting the kittens and cats in the Healthy Hold area of the shelter. I remember not wanting to go (volunteering had actually started overwhelming me and depressing me a bit - so many homeless cats, all desperate to leave the shelter). My husband told me not to go then if I didn't feel up to it. But something told me to go, if just for a little while. It was August 3.

While in the healthy hold visiting some cats in the cages on the upper level, I heard a "Meep. Meep!" and I looked down to see a small pair of bright blue eyes looking up at me. I opened her cage and picked her up She was 3 weeks old and probably weighed less than 1 pound. What a true bundle of love, vibrating with the glow of new life. She quietly let me hold her. She was there with 5 siblings.

I went on vacation for a week after that and then went to see the kittens upon returning. They weren't there!
I soon found out that they were transferred to a foster home due to their small size. I got a call from Foster Mom Barbara who has become my new BFF on all things Kitty related.

Three kittens died from the litter - 2 rather suddenly and the 3rd from health complications. We soon found ourselves fostering the remaining 3. My darling "girl" is a boy -- Jacques, and he has 2 siblings: Emma and " Baby Bear." Barbara named Baby Bear and we've grown so accustomed to calling him that; no other name has stuck.

So after all these months of sadness without my Sassy, she seems to have sent 3 furry new friends to keep me company (Yes, we are keeping all 3 - much to my husband's dismay -- though I secretly think the 3rd one is growing on him).

I enjoy their youth, curiousty, optimism, and outrageously transparent, abundant, and huge love. In many ways, they have saved my life just like Sassy did when I first met her kitten-self. I often feel that I am missing something - some thing that will connect me better to the ebb and flow of life, to others, to the present moment, to some greater love. In many ways, I think we all do. Cats and kittens are masters of emulating this positivity, this acceptance of the present moment.

Just yesterday I was so sad still about Sassy; how much I miss her so much. And then a kitten (or two...or three....) came trapsing and tumbling across my path to offer headbutts and hugs and fuzzy touches of love, reminders that said "I'm here. Now."

Unhealed wounds

Time does not heal,
It makes a half-stitched scar
That can be broken and again you feel
Grief as total as in its first hour.

-Elizabeth Jennings

After having some good days recently - days where I remember all the happy times with Sassy - I experienced some raw grief again. Knowing how much I love Sassy, although these moments are painful, I also encourge myself to fully experience them. They help me to get in touch with the depth of our relationship and the impact this small girl had on me, and the world really. And believe me, though she was small, the impact was not so small. It was a giant.

The quote by Elizabeth Jennings is powerful to me because it really does capture the experience of a deep grief. Time does smooth over wounds - it stitches them up and you move on. Then those stitches break or come loose, and you are back to the original wound. I really don't think the wound ever heals. And should it? We look at being wounded as a bad thing, something to be overcome. But I'm not so sure about that. Sure, I try to go on with my life, and continue to find love and joy in the world.....but to me grieving -- that sobbing, gut wrenching earthquake at the bottom of my soul -- is the witness that she was here, she is here eternally, and we loved fiercely, uniquely, and with such deep bonds.