Sympathy

When we got back from shopping and picking up the mail today, my roommate was hedging about something. Normally when we get the mail, he tells me what it is and even looks at the majority of it before we leave the mailbox place. After that, he'll put it in the deep pockets of my purse. Today he just got in the car and put it on the dash. When we got home, he brought the mail in with him and didn't mention it again until after lunch.

See, our vet's office always sends out a sympathy card when a pet passes away.  Rowan's came today and he wasn't sure I wanted to see it. When he finally brought it to me, unopened, and told me what it was, I went ahead and looked at the card. I was really emotional at the moment so I can't tell you exactly what it said or even what it looked like. I held it, read it over, and handed it to my roommate.

I wasn't sure how I would react, but to be honest, I was thankful for their kindness. It meant a lot that they thought about Rowan and honored her memory with the card. That felt important and it felt needed. I'm glad we got the card and I'm glad that people remembered what happened to my baby cat.

I'll admit that despite my comfort, this does feed into my depression. It's like the older I get, my life is just measured in sympathy cards. I'm still grateful to get them, though. At least it's something.