grief and longing

It was a year ago today that my sister-in-law, Susan, died of cancer...just 24 hours after I had been diagnosed with cancer myself and within a week of when Barb, my mother-in-law,  had cancer surgery. My mom died four years ago this month. Larry, my closest friend from grad. school, died two years ago from MS.

And it was four months ago this week that our 8 year old cat Simca had to be put down after suddenly developing a bloodclot.

Life has moved on.   And I am not arguing with life nor am I ungrateful about it.  We have a new sweet kitten, playful and mischievous.  I have a new life, and a clean bill of health...I have much to be thankful for.

...but suddenly life is accompanied by losses. Big and small.    I flirted with death, and I've known the dying of family and friends. I live with  loss of physical functioning...post cancer treatment food no longer tastes that good, it is often a painful chore to eat, and some foods that I always loved taste downright bad.  I am constantly bothered by dry mouth, and my tongue burns most all the time...it's just a matter of how much.  From time to time, I experience a wave of fatigue that would have been incomprehensible to my old life.   I no longer feel young; in fact, there are days I feel downright "older."  Truthfully, there are days I think of my death as something close at hand, a feeling that a year ago this week was unknown to me. One year is too short of a time span to experientially travel from youth to old age.

And there are moments like this morning... like right now, yes, right now,  that I so long for the things that I have lost that it is physically painful.   O.K., I have moved on to my new life with acceptance and gratitude, but there are moments...

...I want Simca back.   I really want her back.  Somehow, I have taken all the undealt with grief from losing my mother, my friend, my sister-in-law, and my cancer, and projected it onto the loss of that cat.  I can't explain it.  But you can just take this cute new kitten away and give me my old cat back. I want to feel her weight on my chest when I wake up. I want her staring me down at dinner time until I get her fed. I want to once more momentarily freeze in my tracks and plan my escape when I see the attack look in her eyes. I want her total and complete indifference to having her name called when she didn't care to move, and then 20 minutes later demanding attention by laying down on top of whatever article in the newspaper I happened to be reading and refuse to budge... I want her back. 

Well, sure, I suppose I'd like to call my mother about the veggies in our garden and tell her I miss her and New York,  and I'd like to look forward to the eating of Friday's dinner out with my wife again. And talk to my friend Larry about how his private practice and his team, the Detroit Tigers are doing, or talk to Susan about how her team, the Cubs are once again losing...and sure, I'd like to feel young again like I did a year ago...

But just give me back that damn cat.