Four days after his death, on August 8th 1984 we buried my Uncle.
At the funeral service, my Aunt and some other family sat in the first row on the right side of the church. I along with my immediate family sat in the second row. I sat directly behind my Aunt. The casket was in the aisle, the head of the casket just about alongside my Aunt.
As the service began you could hear the occasional meow. It was not clear where it was coming from as at first it was too faint. After a while the meows became more frequent and a bit louder. And I knew it was not in my head because others were looking around (politely) to find the source of the sound.
A few minutes later and it was now possible to determine where the meows were coming from. From the far left of the alter, an open door to a side chapel a cat walked out. A black and white cat. The Priest stopped the service, not so much because he was interrupted by the meowing but because he, like everyone else was just amazed at what was unfolding.
We all watched in amazement as the cat, continuing to meow, walked straight up to the coffin, looked up to the head of it and then looked at my Aunt and then to me and then back to her. He sat down and just kept looking at her and occasionally to me and let out a few soft mews.
After what seemed like an eternity, one of the alter boys came over, picked up the cat and as he was about to walk away my aunt reached out, gave the cat a gentle pat on the head, then looked back to me and smiled.
Once the alter boy had removed the cat and closed the side chapel door, the service continued to it's conclusion.
---
No one discussed the cat, not myself, not my parents, not my aunt. But both she and I know who the cat was.
On many occasion, and often when I am feeling most vulnerable or afraid, if I am out and alone, or indeed on occasion with others, I will hear and or see a black and white car appear. Not out of thin air, but from around a building or from under a car and so on. Instantly I am no longer afraid. Often I say quietly "Hi Uncle Don. Thanks." I've seen my Uncle the cat on occasion in Halifax, where the events of this post and the one previous took place, and also in Montréal, when I currently reside - and where in fact, my Uncle was born.
At the funeral service, my Aunt and some other family sat in the first row on the right side of the church. I along with my immediate family sat in the second row. I sat directly behind my Aunt. The casket was in the aisle, the head of the casket just about alongside my Aunt.
As the service began you could hear the occasional meow. It was not clear where it was coming from as at first it was too faint. After a while the meows became more frequent and a bit louder. And I knew it was not in my head because others were looking around (politely) to find the source of the sound.
A few minutes later and it was now possible to determine where the meows were coming from. From the far left of the alter, an open door to a side chapel a cat walked out. A black and white cat. The Priest stopped the service, not so much because he was interrupted by the meowing but because he, like everyone else was just amazed at what was unfolding.
We all watched in amazement as the cat, continuing to meow, walked straight up to the coffin, looked up to the head of it and then looked at my Aunt and then to me and then back to her. He sat down and just kept looking at her and occasionally to me and let out a few soft mews.
After what seemed like an eternity, one of the alter boys came over, picked up the cat and as he was about to walk away my aunt reached out, gave the cat a gentle pat on the head, then looked back to me and smiled.
Once the alter boy had removed the cat and closed the side chapel door, the service continued to it's conclusion.
---
No one discussed the cat, not myself, not my parents, not my aunt. But both she and I know who the cat was.
On many occasion, and often when I am feeling most vulnerable or afraid, if I am out and alone, or indeed on occasion with others, I will hear and or see a black and white car appear. Not out of thin air, but from around a building or from under a car and so on. Instantly I am no longer afraid. Often I say quietly "Hi Uncle Don. Thanks." I've seen my Uncle the cat on occasion in Halifax, where the events of this post and the one previous took place, and also in Montréal, when I currently reside - and where in fact, my Uncle was born.
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