This Shroud Shall Be Liftted
The very afternoon I returned from the veterinary specialist saying goodbye to Bow, I came into the kitchen to see that black netting was covering the kitchen window where the painters are doing final prep work for painting of the back of my building. Major renovations of my building started shortly after Bow arrived, and I always said that she was supervising them. She did not live to see this final work, but I keep taking comfort in knowing that this work that will likely last 20 years will be embedded with the memory of Bow being here to watch over it as it progressed.
The rug on the kitchen was a favorite place for Bow to take her morning sun baths, and she always looked so blissful and elegant there. The kitchen seems so dark right now, as if protected during this fragile time. It will be just a few days and the shroud will be lifted. Not long after that, her ashes will be returned. Having those last bits of matter to rest here in her home with me forever will bring me some comfort. I am working at moving through this pain, knowing that grief is the enormous price we pay for such incredible love and a bond that will always exist through it. I know that there is more love on the other side of this, and I can feel it now through the bite of such enormous grief.