Grief and the Gift

Hi, Folks:

Sorry I’ve been away from the blog for so long. One of our beloved cats who has been ill for some time took a turn for the worse and passed away a few weeks ago. We’re doing okay. Sydney was a sweet, gentle cat, a silver tabby with a cloudy, marble-like left eye. I found him and his sister as adult ferals back in 2001. I trapped them, brought them inside, and it took a long time to tame them. It took Syd a year before he learned to purr.

Syd was a good, kind, sweet fellow. He was unfailingly kind to the additions to our household. He let a baby cat chew on his tail, soothed others when they were sick, and patiently taught the newcomers the ropes. He was the patriarch of our little cat clan, respected by all.

Syd had his challenges. He was blind in one eye, and both he and his sister were FIV+. Still, they lived long and happy lives. We were fortunate that Syd was able to pass away at home with the help of our veterinarian, who does house calls. He was able to pass away in my arms, which was a gift.

We buried him in our back garden, near the bird feeder. With all of our cats who have passed on, I bury them with a piece of rose quartz. I put larger pieces of rose quartz on their gravesites. For the time of grieving afterward, I carry rose quartz with me. Rose quartz is a heart healer, and it’s soothing to me to feel as if I’m still connected to Syd.

Three days ago, I had a surprise. I went out to fill the bird feeder near Syd’s grave. There’s a flat sandstone rock there. I feed the birds with bird food close by, and put cat food in a plate just a yard away for any neighborhood cats traveling through. The spot is in the shade of a few sunflower stalks.

Perched on the sandstone rock was a pink glass marble, the kind that florists use for decoration. It’s exactly the same color as the rose quartz. 

I picked it up and held it. It’s warm, like sunshine. I can only think that perhaps one of the bigger birds, like one of the ravens who love cat food, brought it. Our ravens are shy, I know that they grieve, too. Perhaps they missed seeing Syd in the window overlooking the bird feeder. Perhaps they saw me, and knew something was wrong.

It’s the most precious gift, this little pink marble. I don’t know where it came from, but I’m taking it as evidence that Syd is missed. And that he is well. I hope he knows he’s loved.