Love has a way of winding itself around your heart, that beating heart, where it tugs at your heartstrings.
Loss is what I feel now. Along with that fierce maternal love.
Where do I put it now? That vast and immeasurable body of love that I felt each time I gazed at Gracie’s little face.
I feel the weight of all the images flashing through my brain. They come, unbidden, and I look at each one and remember her.
Sweet little Gracie with her big blue eyes.
Holding Onto The Images I Have Of Her:
Now I just want to grab those images while I can and close my eyes and try to pin them to my eyelids.
I wish those pictures would come alive and we’d have more time together. Years and years of time.
Of course we’d make many more memories along the way.
That’s what I envisioned with Gracie Mae. Years of loving her and taking care of her.
Gathering wonderful little stories about her along the way. Funny little anecdotes about her that I’d tell people around me, and we’d laugh.
The memories are still so fresh in my mind. I just want to reach up and grab hold of them so they don’t fade too fast.
Just A Flower Bud:
Little Gracie was just a flower bud when she came to me. Then she grew into a blossom. And before she became a flower she was gone.
Gracie died too soon. Way, way too soon.
When I walked into the bedroom that night and found her still-warm body, I fell to the floor next to her and cried, “No, no, no, no, no!”
How could it be? Why, why, why did it happen?
Such a little body lying there on the floor. A kitty that was so active and funny and sweet. Just lying there so very still.
There are now and never will be any answers.
The finality and shock will of course be with me for a long time. The loss, the loss of that sweet kitten, is almost unbearable.
Gracie Was A Gift:
This stone in my heart is heavy and weighs me down. But I keep telling myself: “Living with and loving Gracie was a gift, however short the time with her was.”
Yesterday I kept thinking: If only I had a garden to go into. To walk among the plants and reach down and pluck a spent flower.
To do something with my hands that would help my brain slow down. Something that might bring me just a measure of peace.
I’ve always gone to my garden and grieved there. Because a garden is where I feel closest to those who I lived with and loved, and then they’re inexplicably gone.
It is the place I like to go to heal. Where I can smell the pungent herbs and maybe break off a stem to take inside with me.
Gracie never got to look out the window or patio door and see me in my garden. And watch the birds flitter around the trees and tall plants.
I didn’t get to look up and see her little face watching me from inside.
In the mornings I would hear that scratchy meow of hers that said she was hungry. She would wind her little body around my ankles until I got her food prepared.
I’ll never feel that furry little body again and I want to pound the walls in indignation.
Gracie will rest in that special garden in my heart where my beloved pets will live on forever.
A precious little bloom that never got to become a flower.