My little Lucy, what a treasure. I want to feel the softness of her fur and her wet nose against my cheek. I miss her gentle spazziness and stomping gait that always made us laugh. I miss her loving cuddles that made everything else simply float away. It's not right that there's an empty space in the corner window where she'd stretch out and look so content, soaking up the sun. It hurts so much that she's not here to climb on my lap the moment I sit down or trying to snuggle into my legs and somehow make herself extra-heavy when I try to move her. Whenever I look to the armchair, I catch myself still expecting (hoping) to see her there.
My thoughts turn to her every day and even though I try not to think about the painful emptiness of losing her, I'm nonetheless still fighting back tears when she's not there to come home to at the end of the day. I feel blessed to have had the privilege of sharing over 11 years of my life with her. She was my emotional support in good times and bad, my comfort, my faith and my unconditional friend and companion. From the moment she won my heart (advertized as a 'special needs cat' needing a new home) she was my soft and furry 'work in progress' as I worked with her through her nervousness, her fears, the unknown traumas that evidently marked her early years, the nightmares that sent her running from a deep sleep and her fear of brooms, vacuums and angry voices. By all accounts she was a bit of an emotional train wreck when I adopted her in 1998 and I devoted myself to nurturing her emotional and physical well-being, helping her grow and winning her trust - for which I was rewarded every day with her unwavering love and warmth, her wonderfully adorable nature and all her delightfully endearing quirky twitchy, stumbly and thumpy spazziness that made her so unique....and just so 'Lucy'. The little cat who'd come flying out of nowhere and onto the bed, diving and sliding around under the sheets as we tried to put on new linens or burying herself among the warm laundry, fresh from the tumble dryer, before we even had chance to fold it. The little cat who couldn't meow properly (except for occasional trips to the vet) but who managed a squeak of enthusiastic anticpation whenever she thought a treat or plate of food was coming her way.
Admittedly, when Lorne first moved in, I was more worried that Lucy would not handle it at all and might retreat into her former shy and anxious self - but Lorne showed just as much caring, patience and love for her and all her spazziness - that he was able to finally win her trust too, to the point she loved cuddling and laying on him just as much as with me. She even surprised us both by accomodating the invasion of three new cats that Lorne brought with him into our home.
In this picture (taken with my iphone, hence the blurriness) she'd been nosing around in a bag of stuff we'd just bought and managed to get the handle around her neck till she proudly sported the bag like a superhero cape.
(Thankfully she came out of this better than she did shortly after I adopted her, when she did the very same thing nosing around in a bag of potted plants I'd just purchased. At that time she freaked out when she lifted her head and, feeling the weight of the bag handle around her neck, proceeded to run in circles at 60mph around & around my apartment, sending soil, petals and bashed up pansies and african violets right across the room.)Little by little Lucy flourished and gained confidence, agility (gradually ceasing to overshoot furniture or fall flat on her face), her personality blossomed and she shared her endless charm with us all (even if she initially ran off and hid under the duvet from most people.)
The only thing that hurts more than the thought of facing the days ahead without my little Lucy Love, is the stark emptiness I imagine of having lived my life for the past 11.5 years, had we never found one another. She was truly loved and unreservedly happy – an absolute blessing and a glowing ray of sunshine in my life. I am forever changed, blessed and spiritually enriched thru the privilege of sharing the precious time we had together. While it hurts like hell to have lost her so soon and so quickly (to an out of the blue diagnosis of stomach cancer just 6 weeks earlier - in mid-November), and my heart literally aches for missing her so much, I try to take comfort knowing that she was such a happy cat - she felt very loved and there's no doubt that she absolutely loved us just as much in return.
She took a little piece of my heart away with her and I don't think I'll ever stop missing her but I'm truly thankful for having her be such a wonderful part of my life. I love Lucy....(aka Lu-lu, Loopy-Lu, Spaz, Lucy Button, Lucy-Luv-Love, ...etc.) and she is very, very missed.
Lucy: 1996 (?) to Dec. 28, 2009.
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. Kahlil Gibran
Awww...you gave her a good life. It's always hard to say goodbye and grief is always intensified by previous griefs. Funny you wrote about Lucy. I was planning to send a poem I read a while back - made me think of losing Lucy. It's by Maura Stanton from "Immortal Sofa"
ReplyDeleteElegy for Olive (1981-2003)
To write an elegy means you are dead.
You aren't upstairs opening your golden eyes,
Yawning, stretching, padding across the bed
Toward the tapestry stool making little cries
To let me know you're awake, and missing me.
I'm not about to hear a thump, then smile
To hear your claws tap out their melody
Across the floor--you always walked with style.
My tight grip on this pen means there's no hope
Of hearing your preemptory meow again
Calling me from the top stair as you lope
Down to fetch me, end my discipline.
For hours I sit here working on a poem.
No milk to pour, just ink. I'm on my own.
Thanks Vicky, that means a lot. The poem is perfect, it captures the feelings exactly. I've tried to write a poem too, or write how I feel, but it's still hard for me face - hence even this posting has taken more than 3 months (and wasn't without a fair few tears in the writing). She did have a good life and knowing that warms my heart not least because she deserved every bit of it! :-)
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