Night is the most painful. I miss her mewing as she sneaks into Cameron's room as I read the bedtime story, which her leaping on the bed to knead and purr at us until she has enough and jumps away (with or with our a hiss and nip). She would always come back in the night and try to climb under his covers or sit on his chest and lick his nose or paw at his cheek (with an occasional claw to wake him up for a pet-session).
But every night gets slightly less expectant and sad, and every day gets slightly dulled to absence of her beautiful feline presence.
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Despite her loss, my garden grows and each day holds something good. I am thankful.
I go out into the garden and tend my plants, pick the kale and zucchini, and fresh pea-pods and strawberries and raspberries and watch the bean vines reach for the sky and the sunflowers follow the sun and wait for the tomatoes to show their fruit. I collect the eggs from my happy hens and walk the dog and play with the kids (when they let me - teens) and spend as much time with my husband as he has available. All these things are the best things.
