Memories

Sounds: a whisper of a flap closing, a thump from the floor above, a clicking. Gone. Silence rules. And an emptiness has filled my home.

Only two weeks ago I could count on either an escort to see me safely through my front door – an escort that came from within my house to ensure my trip from car to door went without hitch – or perhaps merely a friendly face to greet me when I opened that door, a guard, a greeter, a presence that existed seemingly always and forever more. A presence, mostly silent, but always reassuring. No more.

Seven days from getting-old-but-still-okay to gone. Five days from concern to worry to dark despair. One day from desperate hope to none. Two days of waiting for the inevitable.

Joe E. Katt (RIP). 199? – 2014

Amazing how a cat can get under your skin, make himself almost indispensable to one’s feeling of wellness, become one of the family. Joey came on Christmas Eve, five years ago, from Death Row, from imminent death. Already a ‘senior’, I knew intellectually that he wouldn’t be with me all that long. However, I had hoped for more than five years.

Not sick, not in pain, just old, he simply stopped. And now I have only pictures and memories. And grief.

When it comes right down to it, memories are all we have in this life. Well, memories and hope, with the present squeezed in between. And the older we get, the more important the memories, for the hopes become fewer and less likely to materialize. And, as the end approaches, we hope to live on in the memories of others, just as others have lived on in our memories.

I’m sure I’ll find a place for Joe E. in one of my books. The Tlartox of "Ghost Fleet" were cat-like beings, and the four main Tlartox sported the colour and markings of two of my cats and two of those of a friend of mine – now all passed on. And some of their traits formed the basis for those of my alien characters. Now, every time I see the cover of Ghost Fleet, see the file name, or read the book, I remember. And then Shadow, Scheissmeister, Toodles, and Sabo live again for a time.

And I’ll take my grief and use it, too – for that is what writers do. We take from our own lives, from those of whom we are close, and from others whom we observe, steal or transmogrify portions thereof and use them to our purpose.

Thus, Joe E. will live again as well … in the future. Not today. I haven’t felt much like writing these past two weeks – or doing much of anything else productive. I don’t apologize for that. Death, grief, remembrance, and sorrow are a part of life, too. They all have their place.

And though I, too, am getting older, I still hope. I hope to come back next post to share something less sombre.

Take care, my friends, and Live Well. Create good memories. Pet a cat.