Writing and Reading

I’m sure my wonderful guests–Pat Bertram, Karen Ventrice and Sally Hanan–can identify with me on the subject of life and struggles, holding onto memories that both scar you and embrace you. Like losing pets you love….

Those are some of the experiences that make me want to write. Those are some of the experiences that make me want to make them live again. Only eternally. That’s the only difference. It’s like getting a snapshot from Heaven and placing it on your wall. They’ll never leave you.

Last night, my girlfriend and I watched “Marley and Me” on DVD. Beautiful movie. Very, very, very sad. Sorrowful. And I identified with it. It resonated with me.

So I’m going to tell you a story about two tiny little kittens that’ll bring you full circle on this enigma of life and loss and the painful joy memory brings:

Miracle and Nubby

There’s this gorgeous black cat that had a litter of kittens. I can’t remember off the top of my head how many, but earlier after the birth of the litter, one tiny kitten got so weak but held on so long…. She was a tiny little thing, eyes closed and tweeting gently, delicate, precious. Fragile. My lady did all she could to take care of the little thing. She held her, comforted her, gave her warmth from her skin. The mother cat tended to her other kittens while my wonderful angel of a girlfriend put all her heart into trying to save this little gift from God.

She named her Miracle.

And the reason why was how long she lasted. Before she fell asleep. And never woke up.

Some time later, we were all surprised, yet again, when the mother cat actually gave birth to one more kitten, surprisingly. And, by accident, the cat bit off a bit of the little kitten’s tail. She looked kind of cute that way. She was also black with white little paws, tiny ivory whiskers off her closed eyes and little mouth. Unfortunately, the other kittens kept pushing her away, making her the runt of the litter. Slowly, she got weaker and weaker.

I, on the other hand, wasn’t going to see another little miracle walk away…because it made my lady’s tears fall. How little I understood what it meant to really see…a miracle happen.

My girlfriend named the little kitten…Nubby…because of its short tail.

I had the resources by sheer coincidence and chance to get Nubby and my girlfriend to the vet just to check and see what were the chances of Nubby surviving.

50/50.

And, boy, you should’ve seen my angel, my lady, my heroine–the kind of heroine you’d write about in books, the kind of heroine that would make you sob on those pages in a book–seen her work tirelessly to feed and stimulate stools and urination of this little 3-ounce kitten that fit right in the palm of my hand. It gave the thought of Miracle something more, something…. And that ’something’ was….

Anyway, although things looked promising–Nubby fed relatively well, loved to move around, cuddled right underneath my neck and my girlfriend’s neck, cooed, tweeted, rolled over, and more importantly, charmed our hearts to death–

Nubby died this morning at 9:15 AM.

Now…. Readers…. Before you get all sobby and weepy with me (as I already have), let me explain to you what that ’something’ is. You see, Miracle and Nubby were inextricably linked for a reason. Things happen by some unexplainable plan. Those two kittens were really miracles in every sense of the word.

Miracle made a memory reminding us to always love…and never forget.

And Nubby was the continuation of that memory…that will never end, never die.

Before Nubby died, I kept looking at the little kitten, seeing her curling up in my hand, seeing her curling up underneath my girlfriend’s pretty neck, looking so comfortable to have that warmth, to have that love, to know that somehow, some way, in the imagination of a writer, all writers, all artists, all believers in something more than just the mundane of the world, the reality of the world…

Nubby was happy. Nubby was happy to be loved.

Somewhere in there, I saw that. I know my girlfriend did, too.

That…was the true miracle.

Miracle and Nubby may be gone. But they gave us a miracle. Seeing that mere people, like us, can care so much for something so tiny, so ‘insignificant’…without even thinking of ourselves…seeing that even a tiny, tiny black speck called Nubby can actually look so…happy….

All you need to remember is that, right there, is the greatest miracle of all.

Because when any of us go to meet our Jesus, when we go knowing our hearts have been filled back in our old home, we go bringing all of that with us into our new home.

Miracle and Nubby took us with them into their new home. And Jesus smiled seeing the memory of us with them.