Goodbye, Miss Tupelo

Well, I did it. A few days ago I had the cat put down. I keep seeing her around the house and then, she isn't there. I tell myself "She was old and sick and unhappy." "It was for the best." But, I continue to question this daily.

It's an experience like no other. When a family member is gone, one that's been with you for many years, it's difficult without their physical presence. I believe we all go back to our original state, one of pure energy. Animals know this better than we do. They are more open to and comfortable with the energy of the universe. That helps me let her go a little more easily.

I think, because I'm so grounded in this physical state, that not having her physically present is more difficult. Letting go of an idea, a feeling that's been with me so long is what's troubling me. She was with me for almost 17 years. Through, a marriage, a divorce, the births of my children. She was here for Patrick's Cerebral Palsy diagnosis, Matthew's autism diagnosis. Tupelo was even here for the recall of childhood abuse. Now I have to face the rest of life's challenges without her.

Over the last few weeks, as I was thinking that she was failing, I began to realize that letting her go was going to open the world up to me in a whole new way. This doesn't make letting go easier. It makes it transistory. When a door is closed another one opens. Always does, always will. It's recognizing the opening when it comes that's sometimes tough. Or perhaps, it's not the opening that's hard to see. Perhaps, what's most difficult of all, is walking through it.

Thank you, Tupelo, for your time and love. I'll miss you greatly.