As I’ve written about, my sweet cat Michelangelo died a couple weeks ago. I found myself deeply missing him this morning, yet resisting the missing. My thoughts were getting in the way of feeling, while i believed them.I spotted this, I went below thoughts and toward the experience of loss. Yes, towards it.
A few days ago, my dear friend and I went to Grenfell Tower. She frequently makes this pilgrimage from her home nearby to speak the names of those who perished on that awful night. For me, as an infrequent visitor to London, it was the first time I had set eyes on the blackened building. We walked the surrounding streets, past the church which hasn’t closed its doors since the fire broke out, bedecked with yellow ribbons, knitted yellow hearts, photographs of the missing and dead, teddy bears, and handwritten cards and messages.