Angie

Angie was a cross-eyed cat.

Literally, her eyes pointed in the center. She only came out when it was quiet, and people normally had to ask if she was real because she never moved.

My mom always complained about her because she shed so much, but she went everywhere my mom did.

Looking back, I think my mom wanted her as a relief from the daily stress of life at that time. Like Angie was a therapeutic rescue cat or something. I've read about soliders who are suffering from post traumatic stress and are given a puppy to care for. All of the therapy from every psychologist on Oprah couldn't do what an animal can.

The death of Angie has surfaced some of the emotions of the past. I grieve for my mom because I know she must be hurting, and I grieve for my sister and I. There was a period of time when my parents had decided to try and work it out. It did not last long, and they remained split...just in the same house. There were many nights of tears and shouts and words and pleads and tears.

My sister remembers when Angie came to live with us. As a 12 year old, trying to understand what is happening to her family, this little white kitty must have made her so happy.

My mom also brought home a dog around that time. The dog was left with us, but Angie went with her. To both apartments, to both houses.

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The feelings of loss creep up at the strangest times.

We had an old toilet that was in the common bathroom downstairs for everyone to use. It was the kind with the pull chain that you had to hold down until it flushed all the way. It went great with the "Saturday Evening Post" wallpaper. I loved that bathroom. I had a routine too. The flush was VERY loud so as a kid I always used my shoulder to cover my ear as I flushed it. Even as a college student, I covered my ears.

When the Great Divide was final, the remodeling of the house began. MUST PAINT OVER THE PAST should have been the slogan for that time. New style, new design, lots of color!
I loved that bathroom...it remain untouched for a long time.
I came home from college to find a white porcelain one.
I was devastated.

Nothing was the same.
Nothing was ever going to be the same.
Nothing seemed right. Everything was in the wrong place. The desk should be there, the phone should be there, the TV goes over there, we eat dinner in here, we belong here, what happened to my life?

The feelings of loss creep up at the strangest of times.

Maybe I should get a kitty!