Sometimes they are the very same thing. Sometimes we give up the very thing we love because we love it.
We hurt. We cry. But we know that our love - our very act of loving - means we must let go.
My sister took her 18 year old cat to the vet tonight to have him put to sleep. The reasons were many, but the chief among them was her love for him. Loved him too much to let him die alone. Loved him too much to prolong his suffering. Loved him too much to be selfish for one more minute.
Letting go is never easy. It is our nature to hold all that we have and to hold it tight. Our grip can be smothering.
Opening our hands to free something -or someone - is the hardest thing we may ever do. But there is freedom there - for us, too.
Ultimately, the loves, the possessions, the things we call ours were never really ours to own, guard and jealously grip. They are here on loan. And our grip must be loose, the way we hold a tiny flower or china tea cup.
It is really our hearts that get to hold on tight to the memory of love and the warmth of living so long with the truth of life.
Some may think - it's just a cat. But love is love, big or small. Our hearts are filled with the stuff - if we let them be - and it flows out and over all we touch.
We will miss you, sweet furbaby. Go and sleep peacefully. Thank you for the memories.
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