On June 1, we lost our cat, Rory. She was a huge part of my life. I shared about her passing on Instagram, and since I don’t think I can write anything more articulate about it yet, I’m sharing those posts here.
There is something about loss and grief that brings everything into higher relief. On Saturday morning I went out and saw the dew clinging to each blade of grass and the crepe-paper petals of poppies unfurling and everything looking so kind of heart-breakingly beautiful that I knew it was the end of something. I could just feel it was the day to let go. I'm not sure if that makes sense to you. There was something that to me, seemed poetic. Even though the only rule my poetry teacher in college gave us was *don't write about your dead cat.* Even though I know she was right, it felt poetic to me, the passing of this animal who had shared so much with me.
I don't want this to be a post that makes anyone sad - - I hate being hit in the face with something ugly in the middle of a nice scroll through happy, beautiful images. I've gone back and forth as to whether I should say anything at all - but I don't think I can move forward posting here without mentioning my sweet kitty Rory's passing, as it was such a long and happy chapter I had with her - nearly fifteen years, since she was the tiniest puff of an orphaned kitten who ran right up my leg and looked straight into my eyes.
Please know that the sort of wild grief I felt for the first few days has passed, and I think I am fairly sane again. So don't grieve for me, certainly. I am getting along. And know that we had a beautiful last day with Petey, as we called her most of the time, and she went peacefully and without suffering, knowing she was very loved.
Flowers have been a great comfort to me this spring. I go out every morning to see what's happened in my gardens overnight - see what has sprouted or grown taller or opened, see what is getting closer to bloom, see what the worms are eating or what a cat has smashed. It's a distraction from life, but then again, it is life - the whole cycle from seed to flower, to withered bloom that bears more seed in its death.
I don't think there's been a day since April, that we haven't had flowers in the house. Sometimes half a dozen bouquets, when Nettie's been especially industrious. Sometimes just a few tired blooms dropping petals and pollen on my work table. I've tried to celebrate them all - drawn and painted them when I could, photographed many, pressed and dried them. But I think the loveliest way to enjoy a flower is just as the sun is coming up and everything is still wet with dew, and there you are, the first witness to all the potential that lay waiting in a tiny seed.
P.S. and then a cat sits on it. And THAT'S life. 😂 .