Apologies for not posting. I haven’t felt up to much. Last week my cat Cleo passed away. Her death was unexpected and unexplained. She was with me since she was 6 weeks old, for 3 years, and during that time I have never had a better friend. She was my constant companion, and I am finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that she is gone. I have tried to explain it to myself, to say that she knew she was loved, that it was her time to go, that we were lucky we had our time together, and that maybe she was letting me go, because she knows that I am leaving. But no matter how many times I repeat these things, they don’t change the hurt and the guilt. I worry that she suffered, that she was alone, and I just feel so much grief that she is not here anymore. I see her round every corner, every time I hear a squeak, I think she is asking to be let in. My bed is covered in her fur and I can’t bring myself to wash it.
No matter how much you try to rationalise, sometimes life is just unfair and nonsensical.
I thought about writing a poem, but for once words don’t seem enough.
I’m halfway through the Diary of Anne Frank, and am actually finding it a comfort, as odd as that seems. Will write more about that later.
I found this poem on the SPCA website. It says enough.
They will not go quietly,
the cats who’ve shared our lives.
In subtle ways they let us know
their spirit still survives.
Old habits still make us think
we hear a meow at the door.
Or step back when we drop
a tasty morsel on the floor.
Our feet still go around the place
the food dish used to be,
And, sometimes, coming home at night,
we miss them terribly.
And although time may bring new friends
and a new food dish to fill,
That one place in our hearts
belongs to them. . . and always will.
– Linda Barnes