Little Sparkles

Mr. Max let me know it was time for his cremains to come home with two significant signs. I still miss him so much.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Mr. Max, and missing him. I miss how energetic and physical he was, leaping lightly onto my shoulder as I stood or sat, or onto my back when I leaned over. Racing me up or down the steps, always ready for affection. And, of course, exploring the back yard and finding sunny spots back or front. I was looking forward to some years with him, my new garden cat, and indoors planning projects with him in mind, like extending the windowsill in the bathroom where he wanted to sit, but it was too narrow. Sienna would like it too, it had been one of her favorite places to nap in the sun before the window was replaced. I was sure they could take turns and maybe share because Bella, Hamlet, Sienna and Mariposa had all accepted him though he had still been a little nervous.

I always wait a while, sometimes two or three months, after I have them cremated before I bring their cremains home. I want to give them their time to visit in spirit before I bring this physical memory which is the body their spirit left behind. But I do still see it as a part of them, treated with respect and love, and I cherish that part of them too. At some point after time has passed I feel that part of them is missing and I know it’s time to bring their cremains home.

He let me know it was time

Mr. Max hadn’t visited for a while. After he seemed to remain present that first and second day he disappeared entirely. Of course, he had lived with another person for about 7 years who’d adopted him as a kitten and loved him very much so I’m sure he was busy there. I thought of that person often as Mr. Max and Morty and the other three were in that house, as I worked to remove them. Now and then spending time with them here as well I thought about how loving and affectionate these two cats were, their nature, of course, but cultured by a human who had loved them very much and treated them with kindness and respect.

About a month after Mr. Max transitioned to his next life I started seeing a dark shape out of the corner of my eye on top of the cat tree behind me when I turned my head, a place he loved best. I felt him out in the garden, and occasionally saw a dark shape walk in through through the kitchen doorway.

Last week, after seven weeks, I felt it was time, I wanted his cremains here and I didn’t think they’d get in his way. I’ve been messing up the house again, though, still sorting through things and also getting ready to set up for my open house so things were everywhere. I wanted to wait until I had most of the chaos under control so I could spend some time with him and I wouldn’t feel that he was lost in the chaos.

Little sparkles

On Tuesday last week I was in the studio playing with Morty, brushing him and giving him his afternoon dental treats on my worktable under the window. Something made me look up over my head from Morty and I saw the little round faceted crystal I have hanging on the mini blind in that room, the crystal that was in there when Lucy was speckled with little rainbow dots just days before she died, then a few weeks later the day Mimi and her kittens arrived and I settled them into the studio and the room was filled with little rainbow dots as I seemed to feel Lucy join us, join them.

I saw it had caught a tiny bit of sunshine, which is pretty improbable considering the angle and the time of day, and that the trees still have leaves outside and it was pretty shady where we were. Little shards of rainbows sparked outward from around the crystal on the window frame behind it, grew in intensity and then flashed on the wall to the side, staying for several minutes before fading. I haven’t seen too many rainbows from that crystal because the trees have grown so much and even in winter a good bit of the sun that reaches it is blocked.

I hadn’t felt Mr. Max in the studio though I had sharply felt his absence whenever I went in there, and haven’t been able to work on any artwork in there because of how intensely I missed him in there.

Even Morty seemed more animated. I could picture Mr. Max all over the room, he was so lithe, jumping up onto just about any surface and looking at me with those big cool green eyes.

A dove

The next night at dusk as I took a walk around the garden with a cup of herbal tea I thought about him and all of the cats who’d left us. I decided to give into the urge, to listen to the music that was already running through my head while I walked through the garden and then around the backyard remembering each the cats who had been out there with me in recent years, talking to them, tears rolling down my face, touching the things that were significant with them, like Mr. Sunshine’s flower pinwheel, Mewsette’s garden chair, Mimi’s garden chair and the red geranium, the spot Giuseppe loved, where I’d carried Jelly Bean around, and all the places Mr. Max had discovered trotting around on those brick paths and off into the grass.

When I first started into the walk I saw a grayish bird that almost blended into the dim light fly down from one of the trees, across the yard and land on the top of the white wicker chair that I associate with Mr Max across the yard from the garden where I was. I walked all the way around the garden and around the outside of the yard, then I came to the white wicker chair. The dove was still there, sitting with its back to me at the top of the curved back of the chair. He kept an eye on me as I walked slowly up to the chair and said hello.

 

I continued talking softly and he turned sideways and looked at me with that side eye that doves do, listened to me.

I thought I should take a photo but as I fumbled getting my phone ready the dove flew off toward the fence and trees. The image was so significant that I used my own photos of the doves around my yard to recreate the moments.

Suddenly it felt urgent

Those were two pretty clear signs that Mr. Max was ready to come home. Suddenly it felt urgent. Just a few days earlier as we discussed the follow-up from Pet Memorial Sunday Deb at Chartiers Custom Pet Cremation had asked me if I was ready to bring him home, knowing my preference for waiting. I called to make an appointment for Friday.

When I reached to pick up the cloth bag with his cremains I just burst into tears and couldn’t even talk as I held it. I don’t know that I’ve ever reacted that way. Usually I’m a little tearful but by that time, sometimes two or three months later, I’m ready to remember without sobbing but it all tumbled out. I was able to calm down enough to explain what I missed about him to Deb and told her about the two signs he had given me. And that the cumulative grief of all the losses in the past two years was a bit too much.

When I got home I went up to the studio to visit Morty and put the bag of cremains in the cup on the cat tree that was Mr. Max’s and let him stay in there with Morty for a day or two, then brought him downstairs to be with us in his favorite bed in the kitchen.

I have each of their cremains in the cloth bags in a drawer in the big dresser here in my office, until I finally organize and replant the area where my little memorial garden is. I intentionally waited until after vendor show season and I’ll wait until after my open house too. That’s a good autumn project so I may get to it before winter this year. But I’m glad he’s home and feels at rest.

Thanks for following Mr. Max’s journey here, and mine. It’s been a long two years of loss.

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