I lost my shadow this week. She cried, was limp when I held her and tried so hard to purr and be normal. But the end came swiftly and we took her home to bury her next to the plum sapling. I have lived for a week in a country of pathetic fallacy. It has rained daily, the wind has howled and I have had a Lear like rage against the illness that took my gorgeous cat so suddenly. I have watched her brother try to make sense of her absence. I have whispered in his ear how much he is loved and that we won’t leave him. I wish he could understand.
Today, I feel as if I am peeking around a door, emerging from a dark room of grief, into another room that I have never been in before, and this room is hazy too. I’m not sure whether to retreat back into the totally dark room or venture into the one which is lighter, but foggier. I have no emotional energy for adventure. Even the “ho hum” of life is an effort. But that ember in my soul that refuses to die, which wants to love again, is being fanned. Today I have no emotional resources to draw on other than a yearning to embrace another lost creature and give it a home. I have whispered in our big boy’s ear “there is a wee friend coming to stay. She will lick your ears, tap your nose and dance in your shadow. Be brave with me boy, be brave and love again.”