Every day since last week I have been wanting to write an entry, but just could not do it. I posted about my personal loss on FB and then again when Newtown tragedy hit us like a bag of hammers. On Monday, my beloved cat died after three weeks of struggling to stay alive. Then on Friday, the children. And the adult school personnel. Since my first post to FB about that mass murder, I have not been able to post again.
If I write that a friend gave me homemade cookies, it sounds trite. If I write that I can’t eat those cookies because of doctor’s orders, I sound self-involved. If I say Al will enjoy them and not gain an ounce, well, now I’m kidding around and having fun and that is not the mood of FB right now.
And yet, I don’t want to look at that post about Newtown anymore. I don’t want it to be my last comment to FB. I want to begin again, but it is difficult. My cat was my constant companion for ten years. I rescued him from kitty death row (he had a cold and they were putting him down). I knew that he would not have as long a life as some of my other cats. It was not in his nature to play it safe. Our family cat lived to be 22, living with my parents longer than I did! Rusty lived only ten years.
But Rusty was a wild cat. He daily attempted feats of great danger due to his love of high places. He ate shoelaces and ribbons. He chewed my purses and boots. He was part dog. As a consequence, my house had to be Rusty-proof at all times. Now, I don’t have to make sure the pens are put away or the purse is hanging on a hook. I don’t have to cover the hummus before guests arrrive and I can leave a glass of water on a table with confidence that no cat paw or tongue had been inside it. All Christmas bows and ornaments are unshredded pristine.
But in every moment of the day, I miss my cat. I can only imagine how the parents of the Newtown children must feel. There is no comparison. In fact, when Newtown happened, it put my grief, that now seems so small, about Rusty aside. Now I grieve with the rest of us for Newtown’s families.