June 10 was Luna’s Gotcha Day. For many years, it was one of the most joyous days of the calendar. Since her passing in 2016, it has been challenging and melancholy. There is rarely a day when I don’t think about my special little girl and soulmate of almost 12 years.
Grief is a nonlinear process. The memories of her life, and of her loss, have mostly been integrated. I can casually see pictures on a regular basis of her and remain in the moment, but scrolling back through them in a deliberate process this morning brings some tears. CatSynth HQ is very much Sam Sam’s now, and we respect her territory (and spoil her rotten while doing so). Yet even she sometimes seems to sense a presence of a former kitty in some of the corners and crevices that defy cleaning.
There is so much I miss about Luna. Her beauty and elegance, her shy but sweet nature.
And she was fiercely territorial, especially when it came to me. She did not like to share, but she made me feel very loved. She could sit patiently while I made weird sounds in the studio. And despite being a “strictly indoor” cat, she loved going outside on the patio after we moved to San Francisco.
Regular readers know I am not at all religious. And I don’t have a particular notion of an afterlife. But I do like to sometimes think about Luna taking her place among those I have lost over the years, mostly human friends and family. The visualization is of them all standing and waiting patiently, a little black cat in front of the much taller people. I also take comfort in the Rainbow Bridge, and in the community of cat bloggers who have loved and lost over these many years.
I do not expect that the grief will ever disappear entirely. And that’s ok. We continue.