Over the weekend we had a Memorial Bonfire for my son that I lost in February because of a random shooting.
We had all kinds of family and friends over for food, fun, and fire. It was an emotional and wonderful day, full of love and sadness and bonding.
We built a cairn (a heap of stones piled up as a memorial or as a landmark) in the corner garden from a pile of rocks that were dumped under a tree in the back yard before we even moved here.
During the day’s festivities, this gray and white cat appeared. My dog initially chased her up a tree, but that did not deter her one bit. Not long after, she came down and started loving up everyone. She would lay on the wood pile, at people’s feet, even on the top stair of the staircase leading to our front deck. She was not phased by any one or any thing.
The dogs began to merely sniff her, then eventually ignored her. She was picked up, loved, pet, and fed.
The thing is — this wasn’t my cat.
I had never seen this cat before.
Two of my friends wanted to take her home. Another named her Stella. Much debate ensued throughout the evening, and it was finally decided that if she returned the next day I would take her in and tell my wannabe cat mamas.
The last time I saw her was in late twilight, walking away down one of the paths we have running around the landscape of our property.
I haven’t seen her again.
And I wondered …
I don’t believe in signs, the afterlife, or a higher power, especially after a traumatic event like I experienced.
Was this cat merely a stray that wandered into my party?
Or did my son send me a sign that all was well on the other side?
I prefer not to judge nor make a decision about what happened that day. I will leave the truth to the powers that be.
But you made my day, Stella …Thank you.