Loss and Emptiness
Five days since Stolen Cat passed on, and it's actually getting harder to cope than easier.
The worst times are at night, when I lay in bed unable to sleep, just thinking about the enormous absence of his presence. He didn't even sleep next to me every night, I'd say most nights he didn't, but it's more the knowledge that he'll never be there next to me ever again. He'll never wake me up early with that annoying, urgent meow on the floor, then pause, struggle his way up on my bed, and meow in my face in case I didn't hear him. It's so quiet now. He was always such a vocal cat, with his little mews and trills. When I walked into a room where he was, we had our own little greeting - he'd go HNNNN and I'd go HNNNN and he'd respond back again.
It's hard knowing I'll never hear any of that again.
I've given a lot of thought as to why his loss has been so painful. I realize he was my only source of affection - he would come to me looking for pets and cuddles or just to lay next to me while I worked or sleep next to me at night. I didn't realize it at the time but I really came to need that, subconsciously. I came to need, as part of my life, someone or something that craved my presence, and vice versa. He would always come to me, not my dad, barely even his previous owners, but me. He would constantly follow me around the house, waiting until I sat down so he could curl up next to me. He always had to be within paw's reach.
He seemed in a lot of ways dog-like. He didn't lose patience like regular cats do. He never scratched or hissed, and would let me cuddle or hold him even If I suspected he'd rather be on the ground. He was always purring whenever I touched him even if it was my toe nudging him. I used to cuddle him and bury my face in his fur and go, "you're my kitty and I love you," and I want nothing more than to be able to do that just one last time.
Maybe that's one of the reasons his death hit me so hard; I didn't have a goodbye. I don't know if he died scared or lonely or looking for me. I wonder if he left knowing he was going to die and wanted somewhere private, or if his body gave out and he couldn't make it home. I just wish I could have given him one last cuddle. Maybe mostly for selfish reasons, but also so he knew how much he meant to me.
I've cried for him every night, out of that giant emptiness I wish would slowly fill up. I know eventually it will, but it just seems like I'm emptier and emptier and more alone every night. There was no cat like him. I've met plenty of cats and none of them were like him. Sometimes I feel like a kid, curled up thinking, I want my kitty. But I'm a rational adult and know that he's gone and isn't ever coming back. I wish my subconscious would stop giving me dreams of suddenly him arriving at the door or jumping on my bed or sitting in the window. It hurts more waking up and having to tell my woken mind that it was a dream, and force myself back into the world of logic.
I know grief takes time, but I just feel so alone without my friend.
The worst times are at night, when I lay in bed unable to sleep, just thinking about the enormous absence of his presence. He didn't even sleep next to me every night, I'd say most nights he didn't, but it's more the knowledge that he'll never be there next to me ever again. He'll never wake me up early with that annoying, urgent meow on the floor, then pause, struggle his way up on my bed, and meow in my face in case I didn't hear him. It's so quiet now. He was always such a vocal cat, with his little mews and trills. When I walked into a room where he was, we had our own little greeting - he'd go HNNNN and I'd go HNNNN and he'd respond back again.
It's hard knowing I'll never hear any of that again.
I've given a lot of thought as to why his loss has been so painful. I realize he was my only source of affection - he would come to me looking for pets and cuddles or just to lay next to me while I worked or sleep next to me at night. I didn't realize it at the time but I really came to need that, subconsciously. I came to need, as part of my life, someone or something that craved my presence, and vice versa. He would always come to me, not my dad, barely even his previous owners, but me. He would constantly follow me around the house, waiting until I sat down so he could curl up next to me. He always had to be within paw's reach.
He seemed in a lot of ways dog-like. He didn't lose patience like regular cats do. He never scratched or hissed, and would let me cuddle or hold him even If I suspected he'd rather be on the ground. He was always purring whenever I touched him even if it was my toe nudging him. I used to cuddle him and bury my face in his fur and go, "you're my kitty and I love you," and I want nothing more than to be able to do that just one last time.
Maybe that's one of the reasons his death hit me so hard; I didn't have a goodbye. I don't know if he died scared or lonely or looking for me. I wonder if he left knowing he was going to die and wanted somewhere private, or if his body gave out and he couldn't make it home. I just wish I could have given him one last cuddle. Maybe mostly for selfish reasons, but also so he knew how much he meant to me.
I've cried for him every night, out of that giant emptiness I wish would slowly fill up. I know eventually it will, but it just seems like I'm emptier and emptier and more alone every night. There was no cat like him. I've met plenty of cats and none of them were like him. Sometimes I feel like a kid, curled up thinking, I want my kitty. But I'm a rational adult and know that he's gone and isn't ever coming back. I wish my subconscious would stop giving me dreams of suddenly him arriving at the door or jumping on my bed or sitting in the window. It hurts more waking up and having to tell my woken mind that it was a dream, and force myself back into the world of logic.
I know grief takes time, but I just feel so alone without my friend.