On death, and living despite it

Thankfully, in my relatively short life I've only experienced death a few times. I can count on my fingers how many kindred spirits I've lost. However, for those I have, I miss them more dearly then I would have realized. I was looking through old photos and came across some that hit my right in the heart.

This is my gram and my cat. The only two 'people' I've lost and have dreamt about, gone through the stages of grief about, and most of all, miss like crazy. I remember once I woke from a dream about Callie (the beautiful calico) and finally was able to place why, in my dream, I had felt as if I hadn't seen her in so long. And my grandmother, Elda. I wish I had her now. I didn't appreciate the little things while she was around as much as I would now. I'm more like her now than I ever was. Just little interests that have sprung up or developed. How many times I've wished I could just sit at her chair and listen and talk with her about Egypt, or sewing, or how she wasn't the one to teach me to knit because she was gone before I took a serious interest in it. Or how, at the time, I drank the peppermint tea she gave me only because it meant I could drink a grown-up-drink with her (or at least, that's how I seem to remember it. My memories are a bit foggy over certain details), and now, how I made a special trip with my grandfather just to harvest some of the mint that's grown by the edge of their driveway for as long as they've lived there and likely even before. I think part of it was that they both were sick before they died. And I was there, caring for them when they could barely do it themselves. I remember going home for reading week and getting up with my dad every couple hours to care for my grandmother. I know she wouldn't want me remembering her like that, but it's part of it. She was so frail, and yet she still had her sense of humour. She could barely talk and yet she'd try to make jokes in the early morning hours.

Or Callie, who was born on the farm. I remember it well as it was one of my first experiences with childbirth, and I was the first one to know when they were born. And even though I had wanted to keep her brother, she became 'my' cat, the one who curled up with me at night, and the one who I loved more dearly than any other. She too, took sick and eventually died. We never were sure what of, she just slowly wasted away in front of us. But she lasted until my wedding day. She, like the other pets, was decked out in finery.

And I don't reminisce to be sad, more to keep on. To remember the way things were, and to keep going on, knowing what I once had, and how it's shaped me to who I am. I could tell seemingly endless stories, and maybe one day I will write them all down. But for now, I have my photos, and my packages of hand-harvested mint in my tea cupbard.