There Is a New Grave in the Meadow

In a shocking and horrifying turn of events, our beloved tabbycat, Dexter, died this week. We are still reeling from these happenings, and we are doing our best to get through the first few awful days without him.

The sorrowful decisions had to be made on Wednesday morning, and we brought Dexter's body home that afternoon. My husband took the long way home, and so I sat in the car, holding Dexter for one last time, listening to the radio, watching the foliage colors in the rain.

When we got home, I put Dexter's body in a clear, square Rubbermaid container with the lid off, and placed him on the table by the window that he sat on and napped on so often, looking out over his beloved yard.

We knew rain was coming, so we dug Dexter's grave late Wednesday afternoon, and left the dirt beside it to cover it in. I could not bury him yet, not while his body was practically still warm. No, I could not do it yet. It was just too soon.

That evening, we were a wreck, but we lit candles and had a sort of wake/viewing/candlelit service for Dexter. Our loyal pal T. Tiger stood vigil beside his friend, as my husband and I wept and wailed and tried to make sense of it all. We wallowed in our grief.

We had hoped to bury Dexter on Thursday, if there was a break in the rain. But there never was one. It poured and poured, as the whole world wept and rained its tears down over us all.

And so Thursday night, we held yet another candlelit service. "What if it's like Ghost Whisperer?" my husband asked. "What if his spirit is still hanging around for a few days, trying to figure out what happened?"

And so we cried at that, but we resolved to talk to Dexter and treat him as though he were still present. We spent the evening celebrating him, visiting him in his room, saying beautiful things to him, telling him what a good cat he was, saying all the sweet things we always said, and giving him pets and nose scritches. There was something about it that felt very strange, but absolutely appropriate.

So on Friday morning, when the rain finally stopped, we put a few favorite things in with him (including a picture of me holding him, on which I wrote a bunch of sweet notes to my beloved boy), and took Dexter in his container out into the yard. My husband put a chair by the grave. The sun came out for a few minutes, and Dexter and I sat together in its golden rays for one last time.

My husband and I cried some more, said some more nice things, and then bowed our heads and thanked God for the life of this cat. My husband covered the grave with dirt, then leaves. "Where's Dave Matthews when you need him?" he sort of joked. I put a fence and some other pretty things around it, and the dreaded task was done.

We plan to take things slow, as far as making changes around the house. But we did decide to remove the boxes that we had scattered here and there, as Dexter was done with them. We loaded up the car with boxes and took them to the recycling center. Do you want to know how well this sweet boy was loved? Just guess! Yes, 20 boxes worth!

And later that evening, T. Tiger lit a candle and sat in the bedroom window, where he could see and watch over Dexter's grave. For he wondered if Dexter's spirit might feel lost or confused, and he thought the candle would help him find his way home. What a good and loyal friend.

So this is the tale of our journey through grief, our first few devastating days without Dexter. Thank you for walking this hard path with us and sharing your love. It means the world to us.

Love Never Ends.

I'm sharing three song links today, and here they are:
Dave Matthews and Emmylou Harris, Gravedigger
Diamond Rio, One More Day
Passenger, Let Her Go

From Diamond Rio's song:

Last night I had a crazy dream
A wish was granted just for me
It could be for anything
I didn't ask for money
Or a mansion in Malibu
I simply wished for one more day with you

One more day, one more time
One more sunset, maybe I'd be satisfied
But then again, I know what it would do
Leave me wishing still for one more day with you