[little things]

[little things]

I have heard people talk about “phantom pain” sensations are described as perceptions that an individual experiences relating to a limb or an organ that is not physically part of the body.

These days, I can sort of understand what it means.

Losing Liz was akin to losing a piece of myself. A big chunk…

I still function. I eat. I laugh with my friends. I look at the sky and I still marvel at the glorious and wonderful creation: stars, the Moon, the deep blue of the heavens…

But then I come home and I can’t get rid of the feeling that I will open the door and there will be my kitty, welcoming me home.

It’s a habit that will pass away, I think. I just need time to process it.

At the same time, I am not sure I want it to go away… Is that weird? I don’t really want anything to take her place in my heart.

I miss looking into her eyes as we lie on the bed, facing each other, and I see my own reflection in her eyes. She did not mind me looking into her eyes, like most animals do. But once I’ve read that for a cat, if you blink slowly, it is like a kiss to them. So we blinked at each other, lazily, taking our time, enjoying each other’s company.

Little things. They are the key to happiness.

There were so many times when I told her, “You’re the only one who understands me.” She didn’t need to talk for us to understand each other. That was the thing that frustrated me the most about her last couple of weeks when she meowed for me to do something and I could not understand… I was so angry at myself that I did not know what she needed. I hate feeling helpless.

Last night – my first night at home without Liz – I dreamed that I am opening my apartment door and there’s Liz. Alive, well, and just as playful as she used to be before the stroke a few months ago. She ran inside while I stood shocked, trying to understand what on earth happened. Later, I started calling the vet clinic. “Um… yes… Your vet recently put my cat to sleep… and took away her body for cremation… But… um… my cat is alive and well and home. What did you do to her?”

I woke up with a smile on my face. I did  mention before how sometimes I dream of my grandma being alive when I thought she was gone… and I guess the same will happen to the memories of Liz. Now the two of them will appear in my dreams, playing hide-and-seek like they used to. Oh, I hope for those dreams.

On a funny side… today I noticed that I actually have human food in the fridge. Usually my main priority was Liz’ provision and I sometimes cooked, but mostly just drank tea. Now that I don’t have to get any cat food, I ended up buying a bunch of normal food. It’s weird… or, perhaps, this is what “normal” is.

Anyhow, it’s time for a “new normal,” eh? (God, I really dislike these “new normals”… Can we just leave things as they are? On the other hand… no, let’s not. Just help me get through the initiation process.)

  • Betty Draper

    I am a cat lover but without a cat at the present time. While we lived over seas I had a couple, gave them to another missionary after we left…it was sad. I would have one now if it were possible. all that to say I enjoyed your post about your cat and it was a beautiful cat.

    • Why can’t you get another cat now, Betty?

      Thanks for stopping by and commenting!

  • You know how I feel lil sis. In time, the pain will go away but the longing won’t (unless you replace her with another to love).

    • I don’t think I will be able to *replace* Liz, but I think I will get another cat sometime later this year or next year. We shall see what happens. For now I am learning to follow where God leads.

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