Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Still Not Over It




Dear Finny,

You have been missing for over two weeks now. Going on three. I don't check your places anymore, but I still sit quietly outside listening for you. The kids behind our house are tormenting me, because their far off cries sound so like a meow that it stops my heart, over and over and over again.

Life goes on. It always just trudges right along, disregarding the rent in the earth which represents the day, the minute, the second I realized you were missing. Disregarding the broken pieces of my heart that I'm trying to hold together as I run to catch up.

Your brother and sister are okay. They are different now. Happier, and that makes me so sad. Because you made ME happier. And now they are benefitting, because I am just so glad for the love, and soft furry affection, that I am pouring all the hurt I have over you into love for them, and they are revelling in it.

A lady said that she saw you - she called me and I was away, I was in California, and she wasn't sure when it might have been that she saw you, but she was pretty sure she saw you, and I called your Dad and he went right over there and called and called and called. He put posters everywhere, but I want you know, he loves you, Honey. As much as me. And we both decided that you wouldn't come if he called, so when I got back, I risked all pride and arrest to prowl that nice lady's yard and call out to you. But you didn't come, and she wasn't sure when she saw you, so you could have been anywhere at that point. But I want you to know that both Mommy and Daddy are worried and looking, and not giving up.

Listen, baby, if you found another family that you like better, that is okay. I will understand. I'm your Mom, and all I want is what is best for you. And Dad and I are going to be moving, and that is traumatic to me, because what if you are still lost and it takes you months to get home, and when you finally get here, we are no longer here? And I lie awake at night, crying, because Honey, I would never do that to you. You were supposed to come with us. You were always supposed to come with us. But listen, I will leave the back door open my whole life. I will always be waiting for you. Mommy is really scared right now, because so many things are happening, and she is afraid that something will teter out of balance and offset the whole equation. And things are falling apart elsewhere and she might just be the only one that can truly see that.

You know, your Mom doesn't get scared very often, in fact, this is the first time in a long time that I can remember being afraid. And I'm excited, but it is a big committment, and you know your Mom isn't good at those. It also means saying a pretty indefinable goodbye to some people who mean alot to me, and for one of the first times in my life I'm not so sure I can do that. Of course you know I will, because above all else, I am an adventurer, but it weighs heavily on my heart right now.

Finny, maybe you are dead, and that's okay, too. I wish I knew for certain, so that I could stop worrying and just KNOW, but I'm a realist. Everyone wants to tell me about all these cats they know that went walkabout and came home months later, but I know you, baby. I know you loved me and came home every night so I could rub your face and stroke your fur softly as you slept beside me, becoming vulnerable for only the briefest moments in an entire day. And if you died so that some coyote mommy could feed her babies, well, I can understand that. It doesn't mean that Mommy won't kill the next coyote she actually sees, but I can understand the motivation.

But I still dream up incredible heroic rescues, where I climb 300 feet down a ravine and tuck your weary body in my shirt and climb up with tree roots to drive you to the vet and save your life. I walk around the neighborhood and imagine you peering out of someone's front window, and I walk up and rescue you and bring you home. I imagine you walking through the backyard and I'm in the garden, and you see me and you're tired and dirty and you start running toward me and I start running toward you and the music of life swells in the background and we are reunited and never to part again.

I dream all these things because I love you, little man.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

This letter is so beautiful, bittersweet, and heart breaking. I'm crying, and I wish for you, more than anything, that your little man would come home.

Salome said...

Thank you! Thank you so much.
I really really wish that, too.

Bobbi said...

Let me know when we can go knock on all of the neighbors doors.... I'd be lost without Harley & Chopper...