Last Thursday Nikki and I experienced the loss of our dear cat Ezri, who we loved very much. Both of our cats left this world in the span of four months – we weren’t even over the loss of Lucy before Ezri departed in traumatic fashion. We’ll be writing a proper dedication for Ezri in the near future. For now, we’re still at a loss for words. That kitten has our hearts, and we’re still trying to figure out where to go from here. She was so young, and was such a joy.
I don’t have much to say right now. My heart is torn.
One thing is for sure, bad things happen no matter how optimistic you are. And though I display my optimism with great alacrity – positivity a banner I take into the many battles of life – I also could never be rightfully accused of being naive. On the contrary, from spiders to planes to, now, having my cat die of cardiac arrest right in front of me, I find it hard to be scared of anything anymore. That alone scares me more than anything. I’ll call it courage, because I need it to be courage rather than the alternative.
Lately I’ve been thinking about the difference between courage and hardness, and my gosh, through my terrible week I’ve discovered that, similar to love and hate, the difference between the two is so much thinner than I had hoped. Courage is an adamant refusal to let bad things phase you despite knowing the danger, and hardness is an adamant refusal to let anything positive or negative damage a fortress of stoicism. I’ve seen hardness in action, and have to think it’s one of the most destructive forces in the universe.
Ezri’s unforeseen death claws at my foundation of appreciation that life exists and I’m part of it, because Ezri no longer does – at least not in the here and now with us. I’m making the choice, right now, to continue to be a person who adventures through the disruption and entropy native to this life with unceasing wonderment and courage. We are here, and that means the world.