Two Weeks Tomorrow

Yes, sadly, tomorrow marks the two week remembrance of my kittycat. We are all coping, but we miss the tippity-tapping of her nails on the flooring.

Which brings me to today's topic - grief and memory. Before Bena's passing, I thought about trying to catch her last days on video. But she was no longer the kitty she had been, and it didn't seem fair to subject her to eternal replay in her weakened, unhappy state. Perhaps surprisingly, while we have a number of pictures of her, we don't have albums full. We are mostly going by memories - remember how she would sit in the garden and sniff the lavender, or how she would be walking along way far out back by the woods, and when we'd call, she would stop, make eye contact, and then start her funny little trot back to the house, eager to share her adventures.

I think the videos are too perfect a remembrance. They give too much of the subject back, without being able to give the real thing. Memory allows the sharp edges to be rubbed off; the pictures don't hurt as much this way. In the end, it's not the voice, the scent, the touch that is remembered, but the impression of love ... it's a much softer, easier thing to hold on to.