Ramblings of an Old, Romantic Soul

  What does it mean when people say 'try to be strong'? Why? I am not weak because I cry, because I miss my Mom, my Dulcinea. I miss Mom's smile, her laugh, her hugs, her unconditional love, her presence. So many things I want to tell her - and yes, I've heard "she hears you". But right now that is not enough. In time it will be, but not now. And that's okay.  Every morning, every evening, I look for sweet Dulcinea - I listen for her meows, her pawsteps. I long to have her lay on my chest, gently kneading, and listen to her soothing purr. But she is gone.  Two souls, so long a part of my life, are no longer present.  I am numb. I am lost. I am no longer needed. Will I find my way again? Of course I will. A path will be made clear and I will sing and dance again. But not now, not yet.  Grief is strange. A very dear friend told me "there is no way through but through" - and that takes strength. It takes strength to confront the tears, the lonelines...

Dulcinea 5 June 2005 ~ 1 August 2021 Death seems to be ever present in our home these days. First Mom, now our beloved Dulcinea.   The look of death is the same, whether human or animal. And it isn't pretty. It matters not if they died peacefully, that empty look of death is the same - when you know the living soul that dwelt within is no longer present.  We had the gift of Dulcinea for 16 years.  We chose her (and her sister, Miss Marplestein) from a bunch of feral kittens at a farm. I held them in my arms, singing and bonding with them; telling them how precious they were.  When we brought them home, they were two small, frightened, sickly kittens. But we thought they were beautiful. In fact, Mom was the first person to meet 'our babies'. We were boasting and googling over them. So proud. Later Mom told us she thought they were the saddest looking creatures she had ever seen but didn't have the heart to tell us so. We were in love. And have been since that day...