For Molly, who flies through the stars

We sat in a circle on the floor around my old cat, Molly—her compassionate veterinarian, a kind veterinary nurse and me, Molly’s earthly mama for all eighteen years of her life. I laid my head on her body and whispered beyond the heavy sedation to the magical heart that still beat within her. It had happened so quickly—seemingly fine on Thursday, in emergency on Friday and gone on Tuesday to the same cancer that had claimed her brother and sisters over the years.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you these past nine months, Molly,” I told her through the tears. As she slipped away I heard her speaking to me. “You are haunted by a journey that’s complete, even if it feels unfinished. It’s time to mourn the loss and walk away. The answers you seek are in the silence.”

I went back to an empty home. For the first time in thirty-six years no furry faces greeted me at the door. I walked into the living room and sat in the overstuffed chair that Molly and I had shared for so long. It was unimaginably quiet.

She was right, of course. But the mourning she referred to was not for her. It was another loss that had broken me into pieces and left me for dead. I was caught in a maze that had no discernible exit. The only thing left to do was call in a flock of geese and ask them to lift me out of the madness.

But first, there were things that needed tending.

Every time I’ve said goodbye to one of my beloved critters I sent along a letter and a few special gifts for them to take on their travels. With Molly’s letter I enclosed a little silver sword charm—a miniature version of the sword I’d had forged for me by a local blacksmith. I named my sword Clarity. Over the years I’d gifted these little charms to people who might be in need of some sword energy in their lives. I asked Molly to carry the sword charm with her and hold it for me until we met again. A sword-bearer should have a blade while she travels through the cosmos! When I decorated Molly’s clay paw print I placed one of the sword charms between her tiny paws. It would be a bridge between my earthly sword and the one she carried for me through the veil.

A dear friend, Linda Elaine Leopard, surprised me with a breathtaking two-piece remembrance heart. The smaller, inner heart was placed with Molly prior to cremation and then was reunited with the outer heart afterwards—a symbol of the timeless love we shared. It was the perfect gift for a woman who had the words ALWAYS FOLLOW YOUR HEART etched on her sword.

I also tucked a little kitty seed-paper in with Molly and asked her to plant it somewhere in the stars where I could see the blooms.

When I wrote Molly’s farewell letter understanding came quickly as the words flowed onto the page. She was the last of my six dogs and four cats. She knew me well. Her paw prints were woven into the nooks and crannies of my heart. She understood my wildest dreams. Her spirit recognized the part of me that wanted to waltz in London under the Northern lights. She also knew I had never been to London, had never waltzed and had never seen the Northern lights. “What are you waiting for!!!” she roared. It was not a question. “You will never see the Northern lights drowning in the darkness!”

Oh, Molly Girl, you were so right! Talk about clarity.

But where to begin?

And that’s when I remembered Rita Wilson. Her story. Her courage. Her message.

I’d begin with Rita Wilson.

To be continued…

With great love,

Chris Davis

Lighthearted Press