Life Changes

It's amazing how something as banal as taking your cat to the vet can set the tone for the rest of your day. My little Monkey has been bothered recently by a swollen left eye. I left for Toronto hoping it would clear up but found it just as bad upon my return. So off we went this afternoon for a little jaunt to the Animal Health Clinic.
Turns out that yes, her eye is infected but applying my newly acquired ointment 3 times a day for 1 week would clear the situation right up. There were a few delays during the consult, namely the fact that some of the equipment couldn't be accessed right away as there was a euthanasia being performed in the next room. The vet displayed a certain sensitivity to the matter, saying she would obtain the equipment when the "deed was done." I felt kind of sad but put it out of my mind.
When I came out, one of the vet techs was collapsing a cage that had belonged to a newly departed kitty. The cage, along with fluffy blanket, was being shoved into a garbage bag, their tenure as home and bed, now terminated. I then saw the red and swollen face of the owner. She had come in with her dear cat and left with a garbage bag. The whole thing damn near broke my heart and I was struck by the notion that the cage and blanket could easily have belonged to Monkey or Minou. Those sad and swollen eyes could belong to me. I had to get out of there.
Once outside, I saw a casket being carried to a hearse by 8 pallbearers, throngs of mourners streaming out the door of the funeral home.
I am immediately transported through time. It is 3 years ago and I am sitting outside Princess Margaret Hospital, 30 minutes after my mother has died. It is a beautiful spring evening. The trees are blooming, the tulips and crocuses are out, optimism runs rampant throughout the streets. People are rushing home from work, dinner, family and friends on their minds. My life had just changed forever, my heart has broken, the impact of what has happened has not fully set in. These people rushing about do not know what has happened to me, what I have lost. The tulips and sunshine do not reflect the reality of my situation. I find it soothing, this hustle and bustle, this "life goes on" sentiment makes me feel less isolated.
My world had ground to a halt - yet the clocks kept ticking, the sun shone and people met their friends for dinner. What was tragic and life altering for me was just an ordinary spring night for someone else. There is something comforting in that notion.
Today I looked at the woman who lost her cat and the mourners who had lost someone dear to them and I thought, yeah, today is a horrible day for you. But they will only get better. I too had that horrible day and it got better. It continues to get better.
A few years ago I was watching an episode of Scrubs (love it!) where Dr. Cox loses a dear friend and doesn't fully realize the extent of his pain until the last scene. It speaks volumes to me about the power of grief and the eventual power to heal. It too, gives me comfort. As do you, my dear readers.