A Thread
It’s been 24 hours since Marlowe left his body. I was with him, my hand on him the entire time, and instinctively felt the shift just before the vet said, “he’s gone”. I knew what she meant, but she was wrong. He wasn’t gone. He was just outside of his soft, warm, furry body. He purred right up to the end, and I felt him leave that space, and come with me.
This moment was confirmation of how fragile and thin the strand is between the world our bodies inhabit, and the realm just beyond our physical experience. We move from one, to the other, in less than an instant.
I’ve lost family members and friends, as well as beloved pets, but Marlowe’s transition is different. From the time he came to live with me as a tiny swaggering kitten, with silky black fur and switchblade claws, to the way he managed the slow decline of his last few weeks, and his transition beyond, he taught me how to love him.
He’s still here. Slinking around the corners, getting underfoot while pushing his way into the refrigerator hoping for deli turkey, burrowing in to take up space under the covers when the temperature drops below 60 at night. Or sprawled across my reading table, watching the birds and squirrels outside. Right now, I don’t know how I’ll move forward without him here. He was with me for approximately 5,000 days and even 5,000 more wouldn’t be enough.
His physical form was always nearby, monitoring, watching, asking to play or for treats and sometimes even cuddles – he wasn’t a cuddly cat, but he was affectionate and gave rabid nose bops. He bit me, a lot, but never did any real damage and I probably deserved it. We understood each other, although I respected his boundaries better than he respected mine.
Today, Tillie is exploring the areas of the house that were previously off-limits to her – Marlowe deserved space to get away from her relentless exuberance. She’s both unsure and excited of her newfound territory, and she’s already removed one of the bolt covers from the base of the toilet. I don’t know if she senses Marlowe’s absence, or if she just accepts that this is how things are now, as animals do with everything in their lives.
I’m sitting with the lessons both Marlowe and Tillie are teaching me right now, about how life and death are one thread. There’s no end and no beginning. There’s only the love between us that is impossible to express with words. Marlowe’s last moments were peaceful, and he knew how much he was loved. That’s the best any of us can hope for.
Marlowe is now part of my ancestral tapestry, his threads woven into mine. Part of who I am is because of his presence in my life and there’s a big, cat-shaped hole in my heart. I know it will heal over but always be there, just beneath the surface. My writing chair had become his place of comfort over the past few weeks and I didn’t move him, or try to entice him to move on his own. I have it back now, but this room feels empty, and a little sad, without him.
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If you would like to know more about my ancestral connection work, my Daoist path, or my other offerings such as tarot readings and classes, spiritual guidance, and mindset mentoring, you can find more detailed information by using the drop-down menu on my website: https://the-mystics-parlour.ghost.io.
This coming June, I’m presenting a workshop for the Tarot Association of British and International members (TABI). The topic is: Tarot Conversations, Eavesdropping on the Cards. The fee is very reasonable, at less than $10, with a recording of the workshop if you can’t attend the live session. More information on the TABI website soon.
You can also contact me via email at themysticsparlour@gmail.com and I’m @teaintheparlour on Bluesky and @the.mystics.parlour on Instagram.
I appreciate your continued support and encouragement.