My faithful feline, Carmel, crossed the rainbow bridge a week ago. It was a beautiful crisp fall evening, and the entire day leading up to it, she had been acting strangely, making weird moaning noises, and hiding. I sat with her as much as she would allow, and prepared myself mentally for her transition. Around midnight, I was awakened by a loud meowling, and I rushed to turn on the light. She lay next to my head, and I saw her breath moving in and out. Three big breaths later, she crossed, as I watched. Her soul left her body and I cried, the loss felt unreal; I had not been prepared for how this would impact me. For the next hours, until dawn, I allowed those energies to leave my body, as I wrapped her in a towel, laid out in the moonlight, on the screened in porch, where she loved to be with me. I placed crystals on her torso, and said a prayer for her ease in passing that beautiful bridge. I thanked her and gave her permission to leave, her journey with me at it’s end.

The next day, my son came over and dug the grave, using the physical energy to release his sadness and pain, as well. We laid her body in the hole and took turns throwing dirt on top. I then gave my own version of “life with Carmel” (at least she can’t bite me anymore), as she was quite the character in her prime. She used to stand on top of our house in California, and meow at passersby. People would seek her out and she would bite or scratch them for their interest. She was MY CAT.

As the days turn into weeks, and I am finally able to even write this out, I am more and more at peace with her absence, as well as Frank’s (her housemate). I am still releasing the attachments I created with her, but I know that, in the end, it is a wonderful validation for me, that I no longer need a healing from that being. I am becoming more and more proficient at healing myself, and rarely need help from outside sources. I certainly do appreciate the support of my community, but I do not ask them, or anyone, to heal my pictures, aside from a few minor lapses, aka The Human Experience.

Carmel came to me after my divorce, when I was in desperate need of validation and healing. At the time, I had no idea how to do that, so I did what always had worked in the past, get a pet and go to a bunch of parties. At the same time, I was raising two sons, and I tried to meet their needs as best I could, while dealing with my deepest inner demons. It was a tumultuous time, to say the least. Carmel was with me through all of that, then, moving back to Arkansas to a deep heartbreak, started to take it’s toll. She began to put on weight, and became much more sedentary. I grew to be both annoyed and enamored with her light snoring, as she insisted on sleeping next to my head. She bit me on the eyelid one time, during what I can only assume was a cat-mare, since we were both asleep at the time and she seemed confused when I yelped. There was blood and tears, but she was fiercely loyal and had a purr you could hear across the room. I look back and realize how many people she tried to warn me about, but I ignored it. I was stuck in my own cycle of pictures, and when you are in denial, you don’t KNOW IT; hence, the name.

Carmel is buried at my Mom’s house, in the garden, where she kept me company many summer days, and warned the birds away from the raspberry bush. I placed crystals on top of her grave, along with a small witch hazel tree in a pot. It brings me joy to think how happy she must be now. I am happy for her, but I also still miss her at times. I have given myself permission to move on and be happy, but still be sad sometimes.

Rest In Eternal Peace My Beloved.