My Favorite Distraction
Written by Mary Stephenson 6-5-2020
The screen blurs in front of me as I try to type.
My eyes swell with tears as they make a path down my cheeks on to the keyboard.
The emptiness is overwhelming.
My favorite distraction when life gets me down is gone.
Molly died on May 2nd.
The last fifty years of married life we had cats.
They have been with me through thick and thin. The ups and downs of emotions.
When upset, I hugged a cat. Stressed out, a cat was within arms-reach.
Try to take a nap for a few minutes and one of the cats joined me. The usual behavior was to lick my face. Either I laughed or got up to stop the assault.
Had 9 permanent residents over the years.
Other than the first white alley cat who did go outside, the others were Siamese and remained indoors.
Molly enjoyed being an only cat, so no pressure to find a companion after number 8 cat died. She had gone through so much before we brought her home at 2 ½ years old. It took months of work to socialize her.
Now she was happy, and we had no desire to change the dynamics of bliss.
If only I was as marvelous as Molly thought. She didn’t care how I looked, what I wore, or that I may have said stupid things. She was madly in love with me. When having to do maintenance on her, she forgave me the moment I was done. She provided unconditional love, which no person is capable of ever doing. She never hissed, growled, or bushed her tail even when scared.
I wander around the house aimlessly. The void is huge.
Necessary to clean the house as it had been neglected over the past few months during Molly’s health issues.
Washed the cat bedding and put things away, not forever but at least during the transition time of no cats.
A search for Siamese kittens could take months or longer. Not ready to start.
The pain will subside. For now, dark chocolate will be the distraction. I find it calming, but nothing compared to the tranquility a cat gives me.
Miss the click, click on the hardwood floor as she walked down the hallway to visit me in the office.
I catch myself looking to where she hung out, and she is not there.
She would climb on my lap as I drank tea in the living room. I miss running my fingers over her silky fur as she purred with delight. The ritual was ours and the absence leaves sadness.
The silence is deafening. No purrs, no meows.
The healing begins from the loss of my favorite distraction.
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