This morning I awoke to an email with some very sad news. Leroy and Mess Cat’s sweet kitty Precious had five kittens yesterday afternoon. They all died during the night. The story we prepared for the children is that they were born too early and just didn’t make it. The truth is that nature can be cruel and deadly when marking out its territory. Tomcats are a menace. And that’s just too much for them to grasp right now.
As I was brushing my teeth, I missed my Mama so much. Her gentle ways with the children would have been welcome as we told them what happened. Her loving touch and saddened voice would have acknowledged the pain but reminded us that this is what can happen sometimes. There’s just no help for it.
I craved my Mama’s spirit. I miss her. It was then that I figured out what I’d like to invent.
A camera that takes pictures and captures the scent of the moment as well. For me smell is such a trigger for memories, and I just know I would feel like Mama was closer if I could smell her or home or the scent of sunshine in the freshly washed sheets.
After I told Cooter and our Princess this morning, there were tears. And questions. And they immediately asked about their cousin, Shaker. How was he? Was he sad? We talked about how he must be feeling, and they both set to thinking about what they could do to lift his spirits.
Because they know grief, and they know people have been kind to them in their grief.
Our Princess quietly slipped away to get dressed for the day. Cooter had seen her first, and he came into the room where I was, shaking his head.
“You’ll see. She takes the deaths of kittens very seriously.”
“Oh. Well, don’t you?”
“I’m sad, yes, but well–you’ll see.”
And I did. Our Princess was wearing a black dress. She looked at me with a question in her eyes. I nodded and so did she. I get it. Later in the day, she said, “All life matters.”
Yes, baby girl, yes it does.
This afternoon she suggested we fix a meal for Mess Cat and her family. “Because you know Mama, I’ve heard that when a family is grieving, sometimes they don’t feel like cooking.”
It brought back memories of all the kind folks who prepared food for us–after Daddy and after Mama left this world. So kind. And appreciated. Yes, my children know about death and grief and how our people do.
Bless all their hearts.
Tomorrow we plan on seeing Precious and her people and giving them all a big hug. And maybe we’ll do what Shaker did with Precious today–sit quietly with them in the hopes of sharing the sorrow and making it even just a tiny bit palatable.
Tonight I’m thankful for sweet, tender hearts who know that all life matters and understand the pain of grief enough to be compassionate. I’m not thankful for the reason, but I am thankful they seem to get it.
Love to all.
4 thoughts on “In the Midst of the Sorrow”
What a wonderful job you are doing with these babies! Obviously they are gonna be great adults someday. Wish we all helped our kids this well!!!
I appreciate your kind words, Ginny. I make mistakes, but I do hope that they turn out to be kind and caring adults. Much love.
Thank you, Mandy. ❤