Nearly a decade ago, a farmer gave us a small multicolored barn kitten who was destined to become my shadow. That description sounds much too mundane given the actual circumstances. We met this farmer at the very top of a hill on an old country highway, us in our family wagon, kids in the back happily anticipating a new friend, and he in his iconic beat-up, dirt-encrusted pickup with a very small kitten wrapped in a blanket on the front seat. On the drive home, my kids named her and cuddled her and made her feel welcome.
But this kitten was a force to be reckoned with. She loved playing, but readily morphed into a Tasmanian Devil with no warning. And while she tolerated the children, she locked her sights on me. And so my shadow came to be.
Every morning I woke to my shadow at the foot of my bed, chirping a greeting and a “I am hungry, hurry up and let’s get to the kitchen.” After breakfast, she followed me into the living room and sat sphinx-like through our homeschool lessons. At lunch time, my shadow accompanied me back to the kitchen where she would play with the bits of light thrown across the room by sunlight reflecting off dishes and utensils in the dishwater as I cleaned up. During lunch, she sat with us and watched me play card games and chat with the kids. Then while the kids moved off to their rooms for our “1-3 break time” my shadow would come with me to wherever I chose to set up my laptop and books and blog and read. And so the days progressed, my shadow with me always. The only time my shadow was not at my side was when I left the house.
And then a few weeks ago, my shadow followed me less. She was obviously not well and terminally so, but as the days progressed we changed roles. She wanted the closeness and companionship, but was progressively unable to follow me, and so I followed her as much as I could.
She did manage, through superhuman effort, a bit of shadowing on her last day. I was doing dishes and was startled by that hollow meow of near death, right behind me. I turned to discover my shadow watching the lights reflect around the room off the dishwater, managing one last happy moment. That night, nearly the next morning I awoke to the sound of my shadow calling me from under my bed. All she really wanted was the comfort of one last chat. To have me talk back to her and reassure her that it was all ok.
We were together until the end. And now I find myself alone.
My shadow and I only traveled together for a short while but she left an indelible mark on my soul.
A mark of kindness and grace.
