We’re having a nice quiet Christmas this year. I’ve been alternating between spending time with our new cats Sam and Emma (Sam is currently curled up and sleeping on my legs and Emma is sleeping beside me) and Scout, who is feeling a bit unsure of the situation but played quite a bit with me and a ribbon from one of the Christmas presents.
This picture was taken in Charleston, South Carolina last December. It’s not composed all that well, but I wasn’t composed all that well when I took it — I had just flown in from Portland the previous evening and earlier that day the doctors had told us that my stepfather Dan was not responding to the treatments like they hoped, that they would wait a few more days but then we’d have to make the decision on whether or not to remove him from the ventilator.
Visiting hours had ended so we walked around the old neighborhoods of Charleston for a while. My mom called our relatives and friends with the sad news while we walked. It was a surreal experience, one of those times where you don’t know if going into the city was the right thing to do but I felt that a little beauty at that time would be welcome.
The old houses were painted in a variety of colors and festively decorated for the holidays. Even a house being restored, completely covered in black cloth, had a holiday wreath above a doorway. There we walked along these streets, the beauty of the nicely maintained and restored old houses, the decay of old structures, the celebration of this joyous holiday, and our own personal sorrow.
My stepfather passed away two days later when his weakened lungs just couldn’t breathe anymore.
December will always be a time of mixed emotions, when we mourn his loss, but also celebrate the good times — how the family rallied together in such difficult hours, the many good memories of his life, the lessons that he taught us.
The family reunited this December for my grandmother’s funeral and were able to honor her 97 years of life. For my wife and I, December also brought the loss of our cat Templeton. While we miss our little one and how much he loved to play in the wrapping paper after the presents were opened, we’re thankful for the two new little ones who’ve come to join our lives, and for Scout who makes the transition with us.
Christmas is a celebration of the ultimate gift of hope, of joy and love found in unexpected places. And even if a far less momentous gift than that of the Christ child, these two kittens curled up with me are a reminder that Templeton’s passing at the end of his long and wonderful life provides us with the opportunity to give a second chance at life to these little purr machines and look forward to the days ahead.
