You see, I’m getting to be an old salt already, haha. Yo ho and up she rises…
But seriously, folks, I do ruminate on things when I’m out there, and I see big old barges and ferries and such passing our big old woo-woo machine and I think about all the anthros we meet in our lives who pass by just like those ships, whom we meet once or twice and not again for months and months, or in the case of mama’s and papa’s good friend, never again.
They are both still in shock about their friend. They say that she is still there in Modena, she will walk through the door any second and pet her kitty and put her bicycle against the wall in the hallway and call out to her daughter that she’s home.
She’ll cook something incredible from her vast experience in so many countries—Italy, France, Spain, Kuwait, and cities all over the middle east and the US. She was a New Orleans girl, southern to the core and yet so worldly, so wise about people and what makes them do the things they do, and don’t do. Mama and papa would say often, “Let’s ask Kate, she’ll have the answer or at least a new view of this problem.” And she always did.
So when I pass those big shadows out there this time, I’ll think in my closet about so many things —how some friendships are enhanced simply by being renewed every now and then, made stronger by distances and then enriched again by coming together for intense, brief but often magical moments. It was like that with Kate.
And with others, mama says, she is more fortunate because good friends are right down the street or in little nearby towns. She and papa can meet them when they wish, with a little planning, and there is not the yearning and sadness for those too far away to visit easily.
Mama and papa had planned to visit Kate as soon as her houseful of people settled into sanity. They wanted her to come see them, take a break, put her feet up and take stock of things. They wanted to hand her a glass of wine and talk around a table of good food and just hug her and let her know she was esteemed and loved.
Perhaps she will be on one of those ships.
Perhaps, once more, we will pass in the night.
Ciao, Kate
You are so brave going on the big ship Loulou. Do you have a little kitty inflatable life vest to wear?
The memories your Mama & Papa have of their friend Kate are very precious. To remember someone as still alive, even though the shock of loss is still huge, is a fine way of honouring that life (says The Ape)
Have a safe trip all of you
Luff Mungo xx
Oh, Mungo, thank you, thank you and no, I do not have a float vest but mama assures me that the little pipet of valeriana calming drops that she put on the back of my neck will help me cope with the woo-woo monster.
AND THEY WORKED! I had a lovely, smooth, sort of spaced out quiet time and even ate a little kibble and used my floating salle de bain…if you get my drift. And yes, we’ll remember Kate as the live wire she was…thank you.
We hope the happy memories will help you cope with your loss. Losing a friend is hard. Hugs
Thank you for hugs…they help so much.