Today marks one month (or 4 weeks) since Lily died.  Sometimes it seems like she was just here an hour ago; at others, it seems like she's been gone forever... and I've been missing her the entire time.  I am so grateful for the time I had with her, and so very, very full of sadness and regret that it wasn't longer.  It takes no effort at all to remember how soft her fur felt, her warm fuzzy tummy, her messy little kisses, how her light blue eyes sparkled.  There is such a sense of unreality about it all, especially every time I'm on my way home and I realize how much she made me look forward to getting there.  Lily brightened up everything for everyone in her world-- me, Wes, and even old-man-before-his-time Goblin.  But then, the reality always catches up with us, doesn't it?


I realize I should have left these in the Gallery or put them behind a cut, but I wanted everyone to see the beautiful clarity of this special place.  We laid Lily's ashes to sleep beneath the stone, in the snow-white plastic case in which she was returned to us.  It was one of the hardest things I think either of us has ever had to do.  We built the fence and moved the choya cactus from the wild part of our property, then bought and planted the two small cacti on the other side, both of which are ready to bloom.  While we bought the white stone, Wes and I went back to the wild property part and hand-picked the soft tan and white desert quartz pieces that surround the three cacti and also serve as accents.  What's not in the photo is a solar light that I added because I can't shake the idea that if Lily wanders around out there in the night, she'll be scared if there isn't light to guide her.  She only had about 70% or so of her eyesight and stuff in the dark always startled her. I hope someday I can see her again, and that she knows how very much we love her.