Day 32
Yesterday was one month since I had to put Eddie down. I was unsure how I would respond to that particular anniversary and kind of surprised myself. I didn't cry. The day was generally positive, despite the downpour of rain we received. In considering why I wasn't hit harder, I reminded myself that anniversaries have lost a bunch of meaning for me.
As a history teacher, I can rattle off particular dates/years for particular events easily. Personally, I can tell you the birth and death dates of my parents and paternal grandfather, my parents' wedding date and my graduation date from university. But I don't celebrate them in any way. I've only ever visited my mother's grave once and that was impromptu (I was out jogging not too far away and detoured over) and have never visited any other grave of a family member. This in of itself strikes me as odd given that I find cemeteries fascinating places (spent probably an hour at one in Edinburgh). Odd as well given that I love history. I suppose I look at deceased family as just remains in the ground, not really to be visited. If I want to visit, I remember them.
With Eddie, interestingly, it was extremely important to me that I have his remains. Years ago, I had thought of spreading his ashes to the four winds, but when it came to decision time, I couldn't let go. His remains are precious to me. Besides, he was an indoor cat that didn't really have a favourite place in the great outdoors so the symbolism of spreading his ashes would be nil.
So when August 25th rolled around, I wondered just how well I respond. I don't know if I'm happy with my general positive mood of the day as it sort of feels like I'm forgetting him or placing less importance on his memory. But maybe it's more of an acceptance of this is the way life is now and tears won't change a thing. Perhaps the tears are mourning the loss of the future that can no longer be.
I still think of Eddie every day; still contemplate getting his name tattooed on my wrist. I can't walk into or out of my house without sparing a second glance for the little furball to be in his favourite spot. It's still hard, but not as hurtful in the heart.
I miss you, Eddie. I love you. Be a good boy, okay?