“In a little while,” Jesus tells his friends, those he loves, “the world will no longer see me, but you will.” With his eyes, a friend said the same to me this week.
On Tuesday morning 12 May, my wife and I had to make the terrible and merciful decision to say goodbye to one of dear cats, Shasta. He got sick the previous week. His congested nose from his recurring sinus issues kept him from smelling food; so, he struggled to eat. And though we tried multiple foods in several ways, Monday evening he went from trying to eat to no longer wanting to eat.
Shasta and his twin brother Corin, were named after characters in C.S. Lewis’ The Horse and His Boy. We adopted them into our family in February of 2004 and they adopted us, making us their people.
If we’re fortunate, we experience a special bond with one or two of our furry companions. For reasons only grace, Shasta chose me, and we shared a companionship these past sixteen years. When I was out of town for work, he would look for me, call for me. He would greet me at the door when I got home each day. And he was here with me, every morning, sleeping on my lap while I wrote. I often thought of giving him co-writing credit.
He came with me into the office Tuesday morning. I was hopeful. I put down two different kinds of food, which didn’t interest him. Instead, he sat near the water bowl. I picked him up, set him on my lap and petted his thin body, telling him I loved him. We feared, but I still had hope. Dr. Madison, our vet, had pulled him back from the brink before. But just a few hours later, on an unseasonably cool and rainy May morning, we heard what we feared: the blood work was bad, the loving thing was to say goodbye.
And so, we no longer see him, physically; though, right now we see him everywhere in his absence. If you’d known him, you’d also see the holes he’s left in this world.
Jesus’ friends, we’re told, stood staring after his Ascension. They kept looking for him even when he was no longer in this world. The void created by his absence made them long to see him in the flesh again. Maybe that’s what drove them to tell everyone about the love needed bring together that world and this. So that the time of not-seeing could become the time when they’d see him again.
Shasta is not the first or the last who we will see and then see no more in this world. He joins our grandparents, Leanne’s father, and multiple animals as those for whom we long, who make us want to heal this world’s wounds with love; so, we can see them, physically, again.
Because, right now, Corin very much misses his brother. And I deeply miss my dear friend.