I think I’m going to start diverging from my original subject of cooking and conversations, because there are so many more subjects I’d like to write about- one of the reasons why I’m pursuing journalism. Thank you to all my regular readers for commenting- it means a lot to me and I appreciate your support immensely. You’re the best!
As
I’ve mentioned before, the past year of my life has been filled with funerals
and thus has spurred thoughts of death in my mind. Death was starting to become
so frequent and familiar that I didn’t take it as seriously. It wasn’t until
recently, when I visited my parents and cat Sumi-e that I really started to
understand the meaning of aging or at least could see and feel it with my own
senses. My family has been living with Sumi, a calm, Zen-like black and white
cat who loves everyone he comes across, since he showed up on our doorstep one
night with his three brothers 13 or so years ago. I didn’t notice how old he was
getting until this last visit when I petted him and felt the contours of his
skeleton due to his loss of muscle and the oiliness of his fur due to the fact
that he was too old and tired to clean himself. I started panicking- I told my
parents we needed to take him to the vet and get him bathed ASAP. When did he
get so old? When did he lose so much weight?? Is he dying??? Every time I
thought of his body deteriorating and the possibility of him dying soon, I
broke out into tears. They weren’t the kind of tears I cried at the funerals
where I was moved more by the sadness of the people around me than the death of
the person I was supposed to be mourning- they were tears of genuine sorrow for
the loss of a being who I spent so much of my life with, who I cared about and
loved immensely, who I would miss forever.
