Kitty Funeral

My eyes ache.

We buried Kitty at sunset.

So many ceremonies.

I am deflated by them.

My head hangs heavy like an over-ripe sunflower.

I sit on the wood deck, soaking in the last sun of the day, watching Andrew dig a hole.

He digs it far deeper then it has to be.

He came home and sprayed out the litter box with the hose.

He washed Kitty's food and water bowl.

He takes care of the things I would leave undone.

Sophie asks, "Why does he have to do all that?"

"Shh...just let him do it Sophie, it's his way.  It's his way of dealing with missing Kitty."

She gets it, and smiles, rests her head on my shoulder to wait.

Sophie's last goodbye to kitty.  She is not afraid at all to hug the box.

Sophie asked me to write a letter to Kitty.

I read it out loud over the cardboard box sitting in the hole that Andrew dug.

My eyes blurred, and I could hardly read.

Kitty, I'm sorry I wasn't more patient with you.

I'm sorry I threw you off the bed when you woke me up in the night.

Thank you for licking my baby's hair and snuggling up to them while they slept.
Thank you for comforting Sophie when she cried.
Thank you for letting Pepper carry you around by your neck.
You were the perfect Kitty for our family.  No one will ever take your place.

Sophie got this quote from Avatar.  It's perfect.  

Kitty Memorial in the flowers.  Thank you Chantelle.

Sometimes Grace comes along and trumps all my petty concerns.  She blasts through my delusions and shows me that I am just one life.  I am heaved up into the wave of her. I am taken far from my tiny boat.  I see that I have nowhere to go.  In spite of all my paddling, she is vast and blue and she has me in her cradle.

She holds not only me, but my family.  She catches the things I miss.  As I watch Andrew and Sophie lower the Kitty box into the ground, our family feels whole.  We are doing it together.  We are as gritty, rich, and alive as Kitty's resting ground.