It will be one year since Percy passed away, at 1:31am on the 5th, a few hours from now. We held our brave little warrior in peace and filled with so much love, as he made his journey, singing his songs to him and telling him what a good, brave boy he was, that it was ok, and that he could go. In the early dawn hours of Feb. 5th, Paul saw Percy on the steps. Percy was whole and as a kitten should be, full of the light he always possessed, and healthy, no longer with a swollen belly hanging from a painful skeleton. FIP had eaten our poor baby alive. Each day, Percy became thinner, weaker, and I remember gently tracing the horrors of each new cleft, each new place hollowed out, crevices that should never have been, his tiny, frail bones protruding as if his skin were just a thin, draped veil. And his beautiful, crystal blue eyes, pleading with me to help him. I remember tracing the length of his tail- each individual bone and joint showed itself, screaming at me through ridges and sharp bone threatening to cut through delicate skin, that FIP would take every part of who he was, consume and devour him, and that there was not a damn thing I could do about it. FIP never took his spirit, his courage, his warrior's heart, his fight, his will to live, his loving, sweet nature, or his grace. People often say, 'God will never give you more than you can handle.' I don't know if that's true. What I do know, is that He will give you the grace you need to take one more breath. And possibly another. We've been given a lot more than we can handle in the past year. While Percy was sick, I desperately wanted him to see buggies. I searched all over, and to my absolute delight, I found an aquamarine winged insect, a beautiful green blue, and shut the door to the room it was in order to contain it so I could show it to Percy. I lost track of the buggie, and Percy became too weak to be interested. I obsessed with showing poor Percy what buggies were, that I knew he would love to chase. I never had the opportunity. After Percy passed, I asked for something to soothe my heart; I asked for something that would confirm to me that Percy was ok and at peace. Soon after I found a ladybug, and when it passed, I put it in a small pewter box, my last gift from Percy. He knew how much I wanted him to see buggies. This was his assurance to me that he now had all the buggies he could ever need to chase and play with. "It's ok, mama, I have so any buggies that I'm sending you one. Thank you for loving me." Percy has been continually in my thoughts this past week. I asked for something, anything, to ease my broken heart. This afternoon, while upstairs, I found a tiny bit of love, a glimpse of eternity in the form of a ladybug, sitting right where I usually sit, in the soft, waning afternoon light, the same light that precious Percy lived his life within. I knew that my boy was close. I knew that my sweet baby boy loved me, and that although God may give us infinitely more than we can handle, He also gives us what we need to get through, and in the moments that we need them most. Grace, and comfort. Reminders that heaven sees us, God knows, and we are not alone and abandoned in our sorrow. I will forever miss and long for a tiny, little white Sphynx boy, an infinite, loving presence who filled my heart and took it with him when he died a horrible death from a cruel disease that ravages all who are forced to deal with it. I used to say that I would find Percy again, but I realize now That he's already found me.