Punkin Cat wanted me to operate on her schedule this morning, so she started merowing around five a.m. I got tired of listening to her complaints and got out of bed at seven.
After getting dressed and letting the herd of cats in for their breakfast, putting them out one at a time when they finished eating, I was ready to fix my own breakfast. I heard a tiny peck at the door, and opened it for Trapper Cat who hadn’t come in with the rest of the cats.
When I looked up after closing the door behind Trapper, I saw a doe in the driveway, nibbling at fescue. She was frequently looking behind her so I knew her fawn was somewhere close and a minute or so later, it came through the fence behind the Explorer. They walked into the yard, nibbling at grass here and there. The doe went into the garden to eat clover, while the fawn looked around the yard more than it was having breakfast.
I turned to tell Greg about the deer . . . only he wasn’t there. And the tears started. And will probably continue off and on for the rest of the day.
So many times we stood at the front door or the kitchen window and watched deer in the yard. So many times we shared quiet moments like this, at peace with each other and the world. So many things that I will never have again . . .
I listened to Raleigh Keegan’s “Handyman” this morning. Greg was my handyman, fixing a bad day with a hug and a kiss. Hugs and kisses I no longer have in my life. And “I can’t fix myself . . .”
There is no “fix” for grief. While the intense pain may lessen with the passage of time, grief never goes away, but lingers, catching us unawares at quiet moments, bringing sorrow to the surface even on this beautiful Sunday morning that God has provided.
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