Turn, turn, turn

I used to look at my cat, Claus Van Buren, and my heart would do a little lurch of love, and I'd wonder, "What kind of lurch is it going to do when I look at my own child?" And I was right to wonder. It is wondrous and unimaginable--the depth of love that I feel for him and the intense feeling of happiness I get just from looking at him turning an object over in his hands, tasting a new food, or hearing him sighing in the night. It makes me feel full and complete in a way that I never could have fathomed.

I also used to wonder what I would do when my grandma passes away. The thought of losing her was something so painful that I couldn't even bear to contemplate it. She's 86 now, in a nursing home, and not doing well. She's on maintenance care: no more tests, no more force feeding. She's tired and ready to go, and I'm going to be okay.

Harrison carries a little bit of her in him, and having him makes everything make sense—the circle of life and whatnot. His smiles and yelps will fill help to fill that emptiness when she goes, and everyday when I see his Hooper chin it will remind me of her.