Sunday morning I was sitting at my computer working away when suddenly I heard a very faint, but familiar meow. I ran to the back door and flung it open. There, in the middle of the deck, stood Peg. I literally collapsed to my knees, tears streaming down my face. As she walked toward me I assessed her appearance. Considerably thinner, yes, but to my surprise she looked just fine. She walked into my arms and there we sat, on the deck for a considerable time before I had the strength to get on my feet and walk us into the house.
I’ve been reflecting back on those days she was gone; walking through each day in a state of numbness. Beyond constantly looking for Peg I can’t remember anything else about those days. I realize now that I had lost faith, lost hope.
This of course is a coping mechanism I’ve used for years in an effort to protect myself from sadness and disappointment. Expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised by the good things in life.
Of course this approach didn’t protect me one bit and in fact made the situation worse; grieving Peg’s death before knowing if she had actually died. I understand now that part of living fully means to always have hope. Hope keeps the positive side alive. Hope is uplifting, promising, strengthening, and restores faith.
I’ve come to conclusion that the best way to keep hope alive is for each of us to trust ourselves, and our instincts. Following the heart often leads us to where we will be happiest. The road may be long and hard, but, in the end, the reward is a lifetime full of hope, happiness, and peace.
I also intend to fix that front door and keep a closer watch on our girl!