Rest In Peace my friend....
On a sad note, one of my cats died.
Stormy, who I found abandoned in the alley, drenched in the rain, passed away quietly about three weeks ago.
He got very sick suddenly, and lost a lot of weight. He refused to eat or move, and I knew it wouldn’t be long. I called in to work for the week, and sat with him, just waiting for it to happen. All I could do was make sure he didn’t go alone. I sat holding him, day and night, and listened to his breathing as it became more and more labored. Then, on a Friday morning, he stretched, curled his tiny frame against me, and the breathing just stopped. He died quietly in my arms, and that’s all I could have asked for. Since then, I haven’t been able to get the image out of my mind. The final few seconds as he passed. I wish I could forget them. Some part of me selfishly wishes I didn’t have to be there. I wish I didn’t have to see him die. But I know I had to be there. That was my duty. No one else’s. I was his champion.
I buried him the next day. I wrapped him in his favorite blanket, and added the clothes I wore while I took care of him, so in a way I’d be down there with him. I knew I’d never want to see those clothes again; it’d be impossible to separate them from the memories. Nobody could have asked to meet a sweeter creature. Human, cat, or otherwise. His entire life consisted of eating, sleeping, and showing as much affection as he could. I miss him painfully, in the sort of way you don’t want to go away, for fear it’ll reflect poorly on his memory. Shit, I’m crying. All I can say, is I’m lucky to have known him for as long as I did, and he will be sorely missed.
Later that same day, my father called me from Nebraska to tell me that my Grandfather passed away in the night. He was cremated, and his ashes scattered into the ocean. I couldn’t even go to the funeral. Part of me feels foolish. I have so much to say and feel about this tiny kitty cat. So much pain and loss. And I find myself struggling fill more than a sentence about my own grandfather; who I loved dearly. It’s just too far away to feel that right now. Too much, too soon. I pray I never have a worse Friday than that.
Stormy, who I found abandoned in the alley, drenched in the rain, passed away quietly about three weeks ago.
He got very sick suddenly, and lost a lot of weight. He refused to eat or move, and I knew it wouldn’t be long. I called in to work for the week, and sat with him, just waiting for it to happen. All I could do was make sure he didn’t go alone. I sat holding him, day and night, and listened to his breathing as it became more and more labored. Then, on a Friday morning, he stretched, curled his tiny frame against me, and the breathing just stopped. He died quietly in my arms, and that’s all I could have asked for. Since then, I haven’t been able to get the image out of my mind. The final few seconds as he passed. I wish I could forget them. Some part of me selfishly wishes I didn’t have to be there. I wish I didn’t have to see him die. But I know I had to be there. That was my duty. No one else’s. I was his champion.
I buried him the next day. I wrapped him in his favorite blanket, and added the clothes I wore while I took care of him, so in a way I’d be down there with him. I knew I’d never want to see those clothes again; it’d be impossible to separate them from the memories. Nobody could have asked to meet a sweeter creature. Human, cat, or otherwise. His entire life consisted of eating, sleeping, and showing as much affection as he could. I miss him painfully, in the sort of way you don’t want to go away, for fear it’ll reflect poorly on his memory. Shit, I’m crying. All I can say, is I’m lucky to have known him for as long as I did, and he will be sorely missed.
Later that same day, my father called me from Nebraska to tell me that my Grandfather passed away in the night. He was cremated, and his ashes scattered into the ocean. I couldn’t even go to the funeral. Part of me feels foolish. I have so much to say and feel about this tiny kitty cat. So much pain and loss. And I find myself struggling fill more than a sentence about my own grandfather; who I loved dearly. It’s just too far away to feel that right now. Too much, too soon. I pray I never have a worse Friday than that.