I wrote the post yesterday while the kids were still at school. I wrote it out, I cried when I needed to, and then I made some rye bread. Because life has to go on. Bread needs to be baked. And, later, children get out of school. And then they have to be told.
I was dreading that.
Bill and I had talked about it already, about how I was going to tell them.
And no, I didn’t tell them everything. Didn’t tell them every detail.
I told them she was very sick, and she died at the veterinarian's office. They knew she’d not been really well in a while. They know that pets don’t live forever.
They cried. Oh, they cried. And I hugged them. And I cried, too.
We talked about Blur, and what a special cat she was, and how we’ll always remember her.
We will put up pictures of her, and we will pick a spot in the yard to plant something in her memory.
And then the kids did their homework, and had some of the bread I made…and we went about the rest of our day.
There will be times when we feel sad thinking about Blur. And that’s okay. That’s part of grieving, and healing.
For now, there are still enough food bowls for three cats.
I can’t bring myself to remove one just yet.
But this is enough writing about it, I think.
Food posts will resume in a day or so.
Thanks to all of you who have commented and sent your kind thoughts and sympathy.
I really, really appreciate it.