That done, I felt I was ready to commit Bosco's ashes to his final resting place. I had planned to bury his ashes in my front garden, but as I went out to look for a suitable quiet spot, something else came to mind.
This big potted plant.
Our porch was Bosco's home for 27 days. He loved the porch, not the garden. And Bosco sat inside this pot when he first asked for permission to come into the house through the window. I think I even wrote it in a blogpost with the captions, "Even if I cannot come in, just let me stay inside this pot, I'd be happy" or something to that effect.
Yes, Bosco's final resting place will be here, in the porch, in this big potted plant.
I paid my last respects.
(His ashes had been placed on our shrine table since they came back.)
Held his ashes close to my heart, said a prayer, and...
Bosco, be well and happy now.
You'll always be near me and your sweet memory will greet me each time I come out to the porch just as you had in the last 27 days.
One more step closer to acceptance...and peace.
On hindsight, isn't it strange how I, for one, am totally convinced that the moment life ceases in one body, it is re-ignited in another new form, and yet, we still want to link the remains to the deceased. I suppose that's how we complicated humans think and act.
I suppose we have to, for our hearts to be at peace. Last rites are created by humans, because we need them.
In the past few days, I had been thinking and re-thinking about Bosco's passing. If you remember, when Bosco first came to me, he looked sickly and had eye and nose discharge. Since he was so friendly, I was so sure he was someone's pet, so I treated him with only Vetri DMG and in two days, he healed completely (or so I thought). He was as happy as a lark and appeared to be healthy. Then, after I found out he was a community cat, I got him neutered and the vet said he was in good health too.
Now, on hindsight, could it be that Bosco already had some underlying problem and thus, he came asking for help. Then, he got well and stayed on, but the underlying problem (which is probably quite a serious one) re-surfaced on that fateful day when he started salivating. And the rest...you know what happened.
All conjecture, of course. But that's how we humans are - always thinking too much and asking questions which may not have answers. Yet, we cannot force ourselves to stop asking UNLESS we realise that there is no point in asking anymore. That can only come with greater wisdom. Until then, we would have to entertain our mental proliferation of questions, questions, questions, because our mind and heart are searching for peace.