Anyone who really knows me is well aware of the fact that I love pictures. I take pictures every where I go. Every available surface in my home is covered with picture frames. I have dozens in office. Thousands in my phone. I'm a photo-taking-crazy-person.
So it was only a wee bit surprising when, in the immediate aftermath of Little's passing, I discovered that I have more than 600 photos of him. Mathematically speaking, I took a picture of Little every 2.74 days. I know how many I have because I organized them in my phone and moved them to a Little album.
When we lose someone, particularly when it is so unexpected, we want more than anything to see their face, hear their voice - anything to be close to them again. That's how I feel about Little. I want so badly to see his beautiful face. To have him close to me again. To reach out in the middle of the night and feel him hogging the pillow. To hear him talk to me in his trilling tune. To fight me for a Ritz cracker. To sit on the desk as I do homework. But he can't and he never will again. Except through the pictures and videos that I have of him.
Whatever genius created "live photo" has no idea the gift that we, who are left behind, have received. Every day Little reaches out to me and if I put the volume on high, and place the phone close to my ear, I can hear him purr. And I can watch and listen over and over and over again.
I have 628 photos of Little to be exact. I will never be able to take a 629th photo. I am a photo-taking-crazy-person. Because of that, Little will always be with me.
Peace and purrs,
Paula
Little's Mom
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