A year later
This Friday will be one year since Tiki’s death. I want to get my thoughts down early so I can get on with the rest of this week which I sense will be rough. The loss of her still slashes my heart and guts out into a twisted, torched mess on the floor. I still ache for her. I still feel her in bed with me snuggling near my feet. I still hear her grouchy “Ruff” of a meow waiting for me to get up and feed her breakfast. I can still smell her sweet fur. I’m no longer on the verge of crying or fully crying each day, but shit will trigger me in an instant.
This morning, her canna flower bloomed for the first time this season. I bought it right after she died in honor of her. A gorgeous peach blossoming amongst green leaves, this serves as a beautiful reminder that life goes on even when your broken self is left behind. I didn’t cry. I smiled and talked to the flower as if it was the darling kitty gone too soon.
The one thing I’m dreading is dusting and sprucing up her memorial area in the living room. Her photos are there. Her old toys are there. Her favorite napping stool is there. Her ashes are there. I want to get this done by Friday, but just the mere thought of going through the routine is making me sad.
What is helping me get through each day is the love of my life, John. He is my rock, motivator, supporter and ass kicker. Tiki’s brothers and sister are keeping us busy cat parents. My cat art is nearly ready to sell on this website (thank you for your patience). I’m taking care of my health. It’s easier to move around. Gardening has energized and sustained me. Dozens and dozens of plants and flowers, including an explosion of canna mother plants and babies, supply me with other life beings to tend to and nurture. While I tour the yard with my watering cans, hose, pruning shears and my phone to document each potted beauty’s progress, I chat with little Monkey as she makes her rounds rolling around in the grass and sniffing trees. I know that Tiki is still here with us. My responsibility is to honor her.
