Working through the Heartbreak

Odyssey

You don't reach fifty-five years of age without encountering sorrow and heartbreak many times. I have had friendships disrupted by passion, indifference, and neglect; I have lost friends and family to death, dissension, and distance (of all kinds); I have mourned the consequences of poor decisions and bad breaks. And while I recognize as an old (but unwelcome) acquaintance the heavy sorrow that has welled up unexpectedly every day since Odyssey's disappearance, I also know the feeling will be alleviated by time and preoccupation with life's daily and more pressing cares. But here it is-- now-- a heartache more intense than any I have felt for an animal companion though I have mourned the passing of other pets; Odyssey was that special. She alleviated life's disappointments with her own demands for attention, with her playfulness, her willingness to put up with our own silliness, and her loving yet independent disposition. As she aged, she wanted more and more of our attention, and she seemed happiest sitting in our laps, flexing her little paws against our chests. I miss that cat so much. But today I finally picked up my camera again and captured some photos of a red dragonfly I had been chasing around the yard the day before Odyssey disappeared. These are for Odyssey, who would follow me out in the yard while I recorded the pollinators and other creatures that visited our garden.