Good morning Sweetheart

I used to greet her every morning with these words before bending to scoop up her little body. I focused on my hands, willing them to speak of reassurance and comfort. From the day I rescued her, abandoned and near death in the Baja desert, she was dependent on me to give her life and love. 

Turns out, I would also be dependent on her for the very same things. 

It was beautiful, symbiotic, dedicated. 

Faedra was born with a spinal curve that prevented her from walking. Unable to navigate the world on her own, she was my constant companion. Worried that she felt afraid of a world that had abandoned her, I sought to communicate in a cat-human language - hoping my actions spoke of devotion every time I folded her wobbly legs into her blanket.

“You are loved” was all I wanted her to know.  “I am here”, my touch said. “You are treasured” as I played with her ears, “you are wanted” as I gently stroked her tummy, “you are missed” as I caressed the velvet on her nose, “you are not too much” as I hand fed her.

And little Faedra, with all that was wrong with her little body, found a way to thrive. 

She found her way into sun patches, nestled her nose under my palm for more head stroking, and kneaded her little blanket before sleep.

She lived in the moment and brought me with her. 

I fulfilled my ultimate promise that she would not die alone a year and a half after finding her; ever tenderly stroking her little toes, her body cradled against my chest so my heartbeat telegraphed a baseline of love, she passed away. 

The loneliness still takes my breath away. 

When I am not thinking, my hands suddenly flutter awake, reaching before I remember that she is no longer listening for my love language.

I have become used to the bitter taste of solitude and longing.

I cringe at how silly it must seem that a cat could have taken such hold of my heart, but there is no denying that she did.

I am used to mornings that start with a cold silence, so I was surprised when I woke up one morning with a strange feeling of warmth, infused with such a flush of comfort that every molecule of my body felt like warm honey, every breath came deeply and with ease. I was swimming in calm and peace.

Curious about what was different, I noticed my hands were placed in the same position I had held when I slept with Faedra in my arms, one at her back and one on her bottom.  In my sleep I had resumed my Faedra-intention of channelling deep love through my fingertips, only now, without her, my hands were resting on my own body, one at my heart and one on my tummy. 

This time the recipient was me. 

And how loved I felt.

The tenderness that I felt for sweet Faedra came from the action of tending; a daily commitment to transfer love with dedication and intention. It occurs to me that don’t have this same practice for myself.

On most days I am not living up to a Faedra-level standard of care.

But this peace infusing me right now is asking me to reconsider.

Can I say “good morning sweetheart” with the same warm intonation and fulsome unconditional love to myself as I did to her? 

When I put my hand lotion on can I, in each stroke, transmit care and comfort? Can I feel the softness of the web of skin at the base of the thumb and the callus from my ring and imbue each with adoration and love as I did with her little paws and pink nose?

Before I get out of bed can I take 5 extra sleepy breaths and delight as I did with her, to have one more day to cherish and be cherished?

When I walk down to the kitchen for coffee, can I do so in the fluffiest of bathrobes to mimic the blanket I so carefully wrapped her in, luxuriating in a soft caress?

Before I open the laptop, can I linger for 5 more minutes with my face in the sun and connect with the warmth of feeling loved? 

Faedra was bold; sure of being loved, she defied vets and onlookers.  She trusted the hands that never stopped reassuring her. Can I do the same?

There is nothing so bold as a woman, centred in the conviction of her own love. Who would I be if I tended to myself with the same dedication I had given her? 

Loving Faedra has taught me to treat myself with reverence, to greet not only the day, but my gentle soul in it, and to offer the world my best self by honouring mySelf in it.

My mornings are no longer silent.  Good Morning Sweetheart. 

How bold one gets when one is sure of being loved. (Freud)

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