O’ January, what a cold wind you blow
to the bone, deathly, the sacrifices
her
her
Her,
always the ladies
you scoop with frost & fang
she did good, ol’ Henri-Brains
(Her) miss Black-Paw
grandmother of the kitchen
that ground the stone
how many times you’ve come to take
St. January, deacon of darkness
blood gate like a colon pushing
she threw that blood-clot up
one
two
three,
her howling called the
ghostly beast of the timeless time
until the moon shined blue
now I grind the stone
alone for
her
her and,
ol’ Henri-Brains
eighteen years she howled
this hallowed ground
Miss Black-paw now
sleeps in the cedar grove
with an egg and a
January dream of spring
my sweet kitchen Queen.
Oh my dear..... I’m weeping with you.
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Thank you darling, @artedellvita. <3
It's always the hardest after, the cycles that just happen over the years, the little things that are not much in day-to-day rounds, yet, huge when the void comes.
She was a great friends and sister of the fur and is utterly missed for all the little ways she brought light to my life. The little things that made her her.
<3
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That grave seems to have taken quite an effort. Reminds me of when Silver, the first cat that was truly mine, that I brought over from my military base, died. And we buried him on the hill behind the house, and my father cried too, because Silver died looking perfect. Probably brushed by a car. He was a gorgeous cat.
So hard to lose these loved ones. I didn't cry when my aunt passed. I didn't cry when my grandparents of one side died. But when the cats do, it just comes out. Terribly. For days.
And it seems our fate, with pets, to keep walking the path alone, to grind the stone down, by our lonesomes :<
(P.S. I really expected "hound" after "Hallowed ground," made that moment feel like a break, which it also is in the content that follows.)
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<3
I've never been good with goodbyes, especially when it comes to the death of beloved aninals.
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I feel I'm good with goodbyes because I prepare myself for them as soon as I get close to someone. Except animals, somehow.
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I naturally do too (thanks to being abandoned as a child, oh, those complexes we get suited within the early developmental stages), however, there is something I've noted when the deathly goodbyes come, a slant, a slight swerve or, sometimes a sharp turn, no matter how out-of-the-blue death comes, or how slow it creeps over, the finality adds a dimension to the experience. When I say I’ve never been good at goodbyes, I actually think I’m a bit of a pro, having mastered the art of leaving and having been put through the fires of death (so much death), I find it rather like a proprioception response that really is just part of the overall functioning of my psychological self — I gauge this by observing others and trying to place myself on a continuum therein. I should note that I due process death and the smaller goodbyes, yet in a prepared for manner, I think we have that in common. Energy, like water, always finds an outlet and for me, it’s usually rooted in creative output.
I’ve written a lot about my ability to leave exceptionally well (the art of goodbye). Of course, a big kink in my armour is animal friends, there is such a lack of pretence and a purity that is almost non-existent with humans. Animals love in a completely true way and in that the reciprocal (on my part and speaking for myself, of course), habitual, response from me is usually unfiltered as I allow for the free flow of energies. It is a bit of a mysterious process as it’s rooted deeply in the unconscious systems of both the mental and physical realms, one’s cosmology.
Every time we connect and allow others in, we begin a journey that has a goodbye somewhere along the perceived timeline of events within the entanglement. I actually think there are no real goodbyes, that, just as memory is intangible, so is death, and living for that matter, but I digress. And so when we begin a journey with another, some of us have already said goodbye — You and I share this. <3
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I can't help but try to pet every cat I come across.
Every single one.
I remember going to the place where my sister had her therapy, and I was waiting outside for the 2-3 hours it'd take, and I had a bagel. I was about 5 or 6 years old.
There was a cat there. And I shared my bagel with it.
I wanted to take it home. We didn't.
Probably one of the first times my heart broke. Well, not really, but, I loved that cat, immediately. And yes, love is the word.
As for saying goodbye. My best friend and I can not speak for 3-5 months, and then when we meet again, it's as if no time apart has been spent. Do we say goodbye?
And perhaps, what us who prepare for goodbyes wish for, is to say goodbye just to meet again, even if it doesn't always come, without pain <3
(My heart swells reading your posts.)
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Funny you should say that about your friend -- I have always filtered closeness by how a "friend" greets me after a long reprieve. When we just pick up from where we left off is true-true to me. Those that spend the time and energy to ask why I have not been in contact and add guilt to the greeting show me that the relationship is not really on the same level and so those are worthy of a punctuation type goodbye.
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lovely words for a dear, close friend. that void is so great at the beginning, then softens, forever in our hearts. it is a beautiful resting place indeed.
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Thank you, darling Amy. <3
And as we were talking about last eve, the outcome of energies (with us at least) always finds a creative expression. Bless the Pain.
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