Tonight marks one year since our beloved Mau-Mau Kitty passed.
At the time, I didn't know how I'd get through the following 24 hours, not to mention week or month, much less a whole year. And yet here we are.
I'm still sad and I still miss him. Perhaps more than anything, however, is how profoundly grateful I am for the experience--yes, all of it, every single moment--that we shared, from the time we first touched noses between the bars of his cage in the Portland Humane Society to that last evening when he lay between Alpay and I, resting against us as the three of us watched the light fade from the summer sky.
Afterwards I wrote an obituary which I sent family and friends, and was overcome with the outpouring of love and support we received. My boss, one of the first to respond, wrote me from her vacation to express her condolences. My brother, too, emailed me immediately. My wonderful sister sent flowers. I talked a long time with my Dad, who knew exactly the right things to say. When I got back to work, I found a card from my co-workers who shared words of love and encouragement. The sister-in-law I love sent a card that still makes me smile. People from all over the world emailed to offer their sympathy and share their own memories of Mau-Mau. And in that way, I realized yet again what a gift love is. If Mau-Mau's life bought a richness and joy to our lives, the depth of which I did not anticipate that day in the Human Society, his death made me keenly aware of--and grateful for--the kind, wonderful, caring people in our lives.
