Cavalier Cavalry
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Tomorrow - An Open Letter to The Cranberries
I woke up one morning, the 12th of April I believe, and when I opened my eyes for some reason, a connection was made. In a moment of clarity, I knew that while my cat, Chasity, had a full food dish, I had not filled it in weeks. Looking farther down, the kibbile jar stood completely full as well, and an icy chill passed through me. She was nineteen years old, and her brother, Chris, had just passed on earlier the month after he too had stopped eating.
I tried everything, thinking maybe she was just a little under the weather, but treats, wet food, and encouragement all failed. We took her to the doctor, a friend of the family as we had more questions and zero answers. A cursory examination showed no real physical problems other than a loss of weight, and jaundice... which worried him. We had to know, so we went ahead and ordered the test.
On the morning of 17 April, we recieved the news: Liver failure. By the time we brought her in, it was complete and total failure.
We made the arrangements to have her put to sleep later that afternoon.
Now, this is where you, The Cranberries, come in. You had released your new album, and the first song released as a single from it was "Tomorrow". I loved it. For some reason, whenever it came on, I just felt better. The sun shined a bit brighter, or the rain was a bit warmer, or the people around just seemed a touch friendlier. It made me want to be a better person.
"Tomorrow could be too late", and for Chasity, there would be no more tomorrows. It really, in a moment of all too harsh reality, would be far too late. But I listened to the song again, and, despite my own sorrow, I refused to give into depression, pity, or despair. I would do something before it was too late. I would give Chasity one last, perfect day.
When I moved out of my parent's home, Chasity had been able to go outdoors and enjoyed it so. This was something she had to part with when we moved into an apartment near a major road. On 17 April, the sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, and I took her back to the yard she grew up in.
She, for a few hours, was rejuvinated. She wandered across the yard, rolled in the grass, smelled the fragrances of the outdoors. For four hours, Chasity, under the eyes of myself and my wife, was the precious, precocious animal that had won my affection the day my sister had brought her home almost nineteen years ago, to the day.
Chas is so far away now. But I had the opportunity to give her that ONE perfect day, the day she had to pass on. I hurry through my life sometimes, but this was different. By stopping, by taking time out instead of trying to cram time in, for the first time in a long, long time, I wasn't too late.
The slideshow above features pictures of Chas during this last day.
I wish I could change the day. Late April of 1993 would be just about perfect. But thank you for such a song, it will inspire me always.
1 July 2012
R. Sterling Frank II