The dragonfly is (I think) a Yellow-Legged Meadowhawk, and it was a small bright jewel hovering at the end of a sumac branch on the morning ramble. Such little wonders seldom pause long enough to be photographed, but this one waited patiently while I screwed off the telephoto lens and mounted a close-up lens on the camera, made the necessary calculations and then "went click".I admit that I am being something of a coward and taking a completely different route through the village commons than I used to do when Cassie and I took these morning walks together - there are dusty footpaths and winding trails and pine scented twittenings I can no longer face traveling without her by my side.
I know that I shall never witness another rosy dawn, a full moon or a fiery sunset without thinking of Cassie and missing her terribly. I am also aware that I am trying to hold a deep sorrow at arm's length these days by focusing with single minded intensity on dragonflies and turning leaves and clover blossoms. How I do miss her wise presence, her beauty, her intelligence and her loving heart - the ache is beyond expression.
7 comments:
That sorrow, dear Cate, is love in disguise. The love you have for Cassie and the love she had for you. It's not diminished by death; it's still there. Love remains, love remains.
I agree with Joanna. I do not think it cowardly to change your route. One day you will most likely go back to that route and have a good cry and then notice all the wonderful loving and good memories you have with Cassie.
I cried myself to sleep for months after the loss of my Isis. Never have I had such a boon companion. It's been 8 years and just typing this brings gentle tears. But no longer the sobbing.
Brightest blessings to you as you find your new way through this...
I see my beloved Moe every day, in the dawn, in the dragonflies he used to chase, all these wonderful memories. Only love lingers after the sorrow...
My first pet rabbit was named Clover and I had him for five and a half years. When he took sick I held him for three days before he died. I cried and cried and three years later I still feel a deep sense of sorrow and loss. Clover is now happy though and in a better place. I can see the meadow and the flowers and the clover that he is munching away on. I wanted to write this for yesterday's post but I could not. That is Clover that I am holding in my avatar.
Your words brought tears to me as well. Thank you for sharing your grief. I've shared my life with three little cat spirits, one of whom is with me now. I still feel the presence of the others.
Cassie is such a beautiful spirit. Peace to you.
Kate
oh, cate, i remember waking each morning after my sheltie died to find i was not dreaming; it was real. the tears poured as soon as my eyes opened. i called my mother each morning for a couple of weeks so she could say the words i needed to hear to calm me, to remind me that life would go on, to comfort me so the weeping would stop for a while. i would begin my days in sorrow which for months never left my side for any long period of time. the pain began to shift slightly when i finally put my hands back into the earth and planted some lilies in her memory. every day after my interest in gardening was renewed my heartache was a little less intense, but no days were without an aching to be with, to see, to touch my autumn again. it is a long road to travel, this one...a journey i recall with the same pain i felt then. sending hugsssss to you and my wishes for the days to soon arrive when you notice your heart is not quite so heavy.
oh dearest, you are suffering so from your loss of dear Cassie..it is normal to avoid places that make us remember before we can do it....be easy with this, and trust your timing, your deep fountain of knowing what and who you are....listen only to that still voice within...and remember always, I know those dogs are chasing rabbits and having the best time on the other side! She looked just like most of them, same kind of rabbit-chaising dogs, they were!
xoxoxox
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