relaxing my vigilance

We got into bed last night. Uncharacteristically, Robert fell asleep immediately. As tired as I was, I couldn't sleep. I finally realized that out of habit, I was being vigilant, perhaps waiting to make sure Juliet could get into bed without incident, and also waiting for her to lean against my chest so that we could fall asleep together. I realized that I had to let go of that watchfulness, and I finally went to sleep.

I did wake up a few times; I'll have to relearn sleeping for longer periods of time.

This morning, on the occasion of my 48th birthday, I woke up remembering all the mornings I've woken up with my little cat. When she could see, she'd often wake up before me and either sit on the floor or sit next to me, waiting, patiently, until I woke up. Lately, though, I'd been waking her up. We'd then have our special time together, where I'd pet her and she'd purr and rub her nose on me and often groom my face. I felt grateful for the amount of time we had. And selfishly, I felt grateful that her timing worked out so that I can have a special day of mourning for her and have a reasonable birthday in upcoming years.

I have of course been receiving some lovely phone calls and emails in response to the news. I feel blessed that people in my life are reaching out to me, offering support and love and warmth.

I do have to share one of the most compassionately expressed notes I've received. This one is from my little niece, Paloma, who is all of four and a half. Just yesterday, she had written to ask how the kitty was, and I at first wrote back to say she was very sick, but we were making her happy and comfortable. Then I wrote back to let her know that the kitty had died. This was her response, as dictated to her parents:

Dear Auntie Liz
Maybe you can go to the vet and get another cat or you could go to the cat store. I'm sorry about your kitty but maybe you could get another one if you find another one or maybe another person could give their cat away and give it to you or my grandmother could find you another cat. That happened to Spike. Spike is a cat looking just like my cat that's here. but I know that somebody can give you a cat, but i know it's not the same as having your own cat. I'm sorry you're so sad. I'm sad too because I love kitties very much.
Love Paloma