overcome

I told myself I wouldn't write one of those sad blog posts in memoriam of our sweet Tiger Lily. I thought, who needs that?

Turns out, I do. I am completely overcome with grief about Miss Little. This blog is my main form of self-expression right now, so I've got to write about it a little.

We all loved her so very much. I'm thankful that it was clear when it was time for us to help her on her journey. I couldn't bear to let her suffer. She was the sweetest, dearest heart. Each of our girls have such a distinct personality, and Tiger Lily's was made of pure love.

She had all the things she loved best, at the end. Her mommies. Soft blankets. Her very favorite food. Lots of snuggles and petting.

At one point, I was laying on the floor with her, petting her and talking to her as she panted. I asked Terri to light a candle for her. Terri was named after Teresa of the Little Flowers, and she had a saint's candle (of St. Teresa) which had never been lit. Since Tiger Lily was nicknamed "Little" and she was our sweet little tigerlily flower, it was appropriate to burn the candle for her. Terri also said a rosary for Little, and received a message of peace, that everything would be okay. I found this very comforting. I don't know anything about the rosary, but it seemed appropriate and really helped me to feel like we were preparing Little for her journey.

Terri was amazing all through the whole heartwrenchingly sad day. I could not have asked for a better partner to go through this deep grief with.

At the very end, I kissed our sweet girl and told her I would see her again, and not to worry. I wanted her to feel free to head on over to the next stage. Whatever that is. We decided that Terri's mom was waiting for her, surrounded by all the family pets that have passed over, and that Little would have a nice soft lap to go to immediately, to be comforted and loved and welcomed.

That's really the only thought that has helped me; to think that she is now, at this very moment, surrounded by love and all her favorite things. All she really wanted was love. From the very first night I had her (after finding her, skinny and sad, under an apartment building, over eight years ago), all she ever wanted was to be snuggled and loved.

I'm so sad that this little girl is gone. Every single night, she would hop into my lap and snuggle in. I really don't know how I'm going to make it without her in my lap. It feels horribly empty. Tiger Lily was truly a special kitty and we miss her terribly. I'm so thankful we have Cleo and Katie to help share the grief, and to snuggle and comfort us. They know. They miss her too, we can tell.

I like Mary Oliver's poetry a lot. I happened across this one today, as so happens when you need to read something particular but didn't know it.

After Her Death

I am trying to find the lesson
For tomorrow. Matthew something.
Which lectionary? I have not
forgotten the Way, but, a little,
the way to the Way. The trees keep whispering
peace, peace, and the birds
in the shallows are full of the
bodies of small fish and are
content. They open their wings
so easily, and fly. So. It is still
possible.

I open the book
which the strange, difficult, beautiful church
has given me. To Matthew. Anywhere.

~ Mary Oliver

I like the part about "the trees keep whispering peace, peace..."

Peace, sweet Tiger Lily. My heart breaks open for you.