GHOSTS AND MEMORIES LINGER
Ying, our oldest cat died yesterday. She had been with Pramote and me for 15 years, ever since she came across our south wall bringing her four kittens in her mouth one at a time. Some years ago, she moved inside with us and gradually lost interest in going out very often. As we do in old age, she got set in her ways. Every morning at 6 she went out and came back to lie in the sun as soon as it was up. Then she retired to her place in the shadow on the left end of the sofa. She ate fish at 5.30 in the evening but “Seafood” cat pellets were her main diet. We buried her last night after a month of declining health. She died quietly at 8.38 p.m. Since we can be so precise about the time, obviously we were with her. As she grew stiff, we buried her. There was finality about it. So, it surprised me today to find myself glancing at the end of the sofa. I noticed the condition of the cat food dish. I automatically thought about whether she was in or out before locking the door to go to the store this noon. Each time, something stirred in my scalp as I realized what I had done. I have a strange unsettled sense that she is dead and gone, but I haven’t adjusted to it. Why? I am deeply not superstitious. My interpretation of today’s lapses in thought are that these are MENTAL REFLEXES. They are habits of the mind. I am not surprised the cat is not curled up at the end of the sofa as she is supposed to be in a complete and happy world. I am surprised I automatically glanced into the shadow before thinking about it. It’s not all that different from knowing my dad would fix our dripping faucet if he were here – but he died 40 years ago. Faucet-Dad: it’s a mental reflex. Sofa-cat. Possibly these reflex actions are emotional. They are grief-driven. If I think about Ying [as I am doing right now] it springs to mind that it’s exactly 6.30 p.m., the last time she turned over yesterday evening … if I think about it, I am not surprised she is not over there on the floor under the daybed where she spent the last 5 hours of her life. It’s when I’m not thinking about, as I happen to notice it’s 6.30 and glance toward the daybed, that it surprises me she is not there, and I get a tingle in my scalp and stinging in my eye. I miss her. She was here more than anyone as I sat in my chair to read and write. She never went far. Of all our cats, she alone never wandered. Oh yes, what I am experiencing is the reality of her absence. Call it GRIEF. Furthermore, it’s a few days before Halloween. This is Thailand where ghosts are not a joking matter. Or say rather, it’s only jokes about them that are humorous. Other stories are heard more seriously. So, the third possibility is that her residue is lingering just beyond those space-time spots in the house. Here in Chiang Mai, of all places, I should not entirely rule out GHOSTS. We have a spirit shrine where Pramote dutifully puts a few goodies each morning and lights three candles one night a month. Do cats have ghosts? The Pope says our pets go to heaven. Angels are in heaven … when they are not carrying out duties here on earth. Heavenly beings come and go. Follow the logic, along the yellow brick road … over the rainbow bridge. Ying lingered before she died, but she still lingers. She struggled to live those last several days. In many ways she succeeded. “We are never really dead as long as we are remembered.” After a death we covet cliches. Here’s another one: “Souls are reincarnated to live on and accrue merit.” I do not expect to identify her feline spirit transformed into another living being, but I know Ying accrued merit by the immense good she did for Pramote and me. So on this day after Ying died, my failure to fully accept what I full-well know, can be accounted for as MENTAL REFLEX, unresolved GRIEF, or LINGERING SPIRIT. It occurs to me this is how most of us process the death of a significant other. Those others swirl in the “just-beyond”, never out of mind. Just out of sight. ---------- NOTE to readers of this blog: My intrepid web-manager and I acquired this blog domain eleven years ago on Halloween 2012. Each Halloween I have composed a ghost story or reference to one. This will be the last, I think. I have said all I need to say and have begun to lapse into repetition. I do appreciate the encouragement I have received over these 12 years. I will linger for a while, elsewhere.
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AuthorRev. Dr. Kenneth Dobson posts his weekly reflections on this blog. Archives
December 2022
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