I sold my mother's small dresser to the parents of a lovely little girl named Hope on Saturday. She is old enough now to have a grown-up bed and needs a dresser for her clothes. Her mom said she always buys old furniture because the quality is so much better. The dresser she bought from me had a serpentine front with four drawers and was very sturdy and quite heavy for such a small dresser. I had painted it white and decoupaged an ocean scene on the drawer fronts...perfect for a little girl's room. Knowing that a sweet little girl like Hope was getting my mother's dresser made it much easier to part with it.
Later in the day my friend, Melva, came by for a visit. We chatted about my move to Utila, shared a pizza, and then she took my best friend, Oliver, home to live with her and her female cat, Pixie. The pain I felt was every bit as intense as the pain I felt when my first son died in infancy. Oliver knew something was up when I packed up his toys and his food & water dishes. The first attempt at getting him into the cat carrier was a bust. He's not a good traveler and hates being enclosed in small spaces.
He flew out of the carrier and bounded up the stairs to hide under the bed. I followed close behind and, with soothing words, coaxed him out from under the bed and carried him downstairs. The second attempt was a success, but at the cost of Oliver's fear, discomfort, and most likely a sense of betrayal. I carried him to Melva's car as he howled and struggled to be free. Placing him on the front passenger seat, I told him I was so sorry, but that I loved him and knew he would be happy at his new home. Sobbing, I hugged Melva and thanked her for giving Oliver a loving home. "I'm sorry, I have to go", I said, then turned and ran to the empty, quiet apartment which has been home for me and Oliver for the past two years.
The tears came swiftly and seemed in no particular hurry to end. My mind flip-flopped between heartbreak, guilt and sheer loneliness. I had two glasses of wine to ensure being able to fall asleep quickly, but I awakened often, reaching to feel where Oliver was laying before I rolled over to change position. Then I would remember that Oliver was no longer with me...no warmth at my side, no soft purring when I would scratch behind his ears, no mewling when he thought it was time for me to get up. The apartment was too quiet.
The next day was unbearable. Just thinking about Oliver brought tears to my eyes and a sick, empty feeling would spread across my mid-section. If I heard birds chirping outside, I immediately looked to see if Oliver was laying in wait by the patio door...his favorite pastime. Something stirring in the soft breeze coming through the patio door would cause me to turn and look, expecting to see him coming toward me...must be time to sit with Mummy in the chair.
I realized just how much I was going to miss feeling his silky fur, his greeting me at the door when I come home from work, his little hugs and kisses, his understanding of my moods and the way he can see into my soul. He was the perfect cat for me, and I think I was the perfect human for him.
I know Melva will love him and take wonderful care of him, and I hope he and Pixie become friends and enjoy playing and keeping one another company. I'm sure once he settles into his new surroundings he will be happy and forget that I betrayed him. You see, I promised him when I brought him home with me that I would always be there for him. Of course I had no idea at that time that my life would change so drastically. I hope he can forgive me. I hope I can learn to forgive myself.
I know the pain will ease, the tears will one day cease and the sadness will diminish. I will always be grateful for the two wonderful years Oliver and I shared. I guess I have to expect that shedding these layers of my life will be challenging. And when I'm done and arrive at my new life in Utila, I'll be that much lighter and newer and, hopefully, stronger.
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