corrvin: gray cat lying on the floor, text "I'll get right on that" (right on that)
So it's been the summer for it-- two of my co-workers had their elderly cats die, and another friend posted on Facebook that his cat went this morning. Every one pulls a little bit at my heart because losing Eldest Son Cat is still so raw. I haven't cried this much in years.

Young Spotted Cat Grim is learning how to be #1 spotted cat. He hasn't mastered the cuddle or the upside-down-kitty, but he does come to snuggle in the bed and he talks to me a lot. The other day a co-worker was over and had his 5 year old daughter, and Grim just lit up and followed her around to be petted. That's what I love to see!

I've actually had a lot of fun this month-- we went to an event in Tulsa for Ingress, I did some sewing and some knitting and a lot of baking (and got pretty good at bread). We've had people over, and been all sociable. All of which is good for me.

But damn if I'm not still, in some corner of my heart, all busted-up broken about my boy. I mean, I knew life was going to be a continuing succession of loved ones dying, and I've been right so far, but I didn't expect it to hurt so much and for so long. It's still clean grief-- I mean, it's not festering, it's not awful. Just aching-sad. It's healing over slowly and from the inside out, like it should. But it still hurts, and I think it's going to be tender there for a long time, if not the rest of my life.

(When I am old and dying, I believe I want to thoroughly confuse my nurses and loved ones by demanding to be brought a spotted kitten, that I might snoogle it for the next generation. You know, as old men plant trees they'll never sit under...)
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June 2017


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