Leaving is always strange. The doggies and kitties love me and I love them back. Then I just put the key on the counter, say good-bye, close the door and leave them forever. WHAT?! It feels so weird and unkind. But, of course, I don’t get to see the grand reunion of the pets with their long lost owners who have miraculously returned to them. I am left with good memories and lots of pet hair on all of my black clothes. HA.
This particular house will always have a special place in the memory sections of my brain and heart. It was while here that I learned of the murder of my 18-year-old great nephew—my brother’s oldest grandchild. It was from here that I drove twice to the viewing and funeral in Richmond, Indiana. It was here that my niece and her daughter from Oregon stayed overnight on their way to the funeral of her brother’s child. It was on this back porch that I struggled with making sense of this family loss. It was here where my anger has built over the fact that our country cannot get any sensible gun control laws passed.
It is just so hard to reconcile ANY deaths by guns, but, of course, everyone believes that gun violence will only knock on the doors of others—until it knocks on their family’s door. I could expound on this topic forever, but it won’t bring him back. It won’t bring any victim back. The parents’ agony and devastation of every murdered child cannot by minimized, but neither can it be mitigated. It’s just wrong. So wrong. So very wrong.
Thankfully, this house belongs to a friend and it provided comfort and solace to me. Her kitty purred on my lap. Her little frozen Dove bars helped me cope. Sometimes chocolate and kitties are the only things that can help a sad heart.