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The worst part was the waiting. Waiting for the night to be over, waiting to get home, waiting for the vet to show up. Watching the clock until the phone rang with the receptionist calling to tell me they were running late. A reprieve of sorts. Another half hour for him to lay across my chest, purring and nuzzling my chin. I didn't know what else to do but lay there with him and be quiet. When I heard the car door outside I wanted to run and tell them I'd changed my mind, but I knew I couldn't. I could, of course; but it would only get worse and he would only get sicker. The end would still come and it would still hurt just as much.
It's an odd thing to know that a life is going to end. I can't get used to it. No matter how much I wrap my head around it, my heart takes so much longer to follow suit. I didn't cry until I told them that I wanted to be where he could see my face. I want my face to be the last thing that he sees. I don't want him to be afraid. And the beautiful thing? The thing that makes me certain that there were angels or whatever you want to call them there with us? He wasn't afraid. He looked at me and purred, he nuzzled the clippers while they shaved his little leg, he didn't make a sound when they put the needle in the vein. Then he was gone. In an instant. It was so fast that it took me a while to realize it and I just kept petting him and talking to him, even though I knew in my head...but it was my heart that still had things to say to him.
I buried him in the back yard next to the apricot tree. I felt relieved that it was all over. It was the right thing to do; but as is often the case, the right thing is sometimes the hardest of all things. Today I just feel the spaces where he used to be, along with all the other spaces of loved ones that I still miss. I get the impression that all the goodbyes over our lifetimes slowly turn us into honeycombs.
It's an odd thing to know that a life is going to end. I can't get used to it. No matter how much I wrap my head around it, my heart takes so much longer to follow suit. I didn't cry until I told them that I wanted to be where he could see my face. I want my face to be the last thing that he sees. I don't want him to be afraid. And the beautiful thing? The thing that makes me certain that there were angels or whatever you want to call them there with us? He wasn't afraid. He looked at me and purred, he nuzzled the clippers while they shaved his little leg, he didn't make a sound when they put the needle in the vein. Then he was gone. In an instant. It was so fast that it took me a while to realize it and I just kept petting him and talking to him, even though I knew in my head...but it was my heart that still had things to say to him.
I buried him in the back yard next to the apricot tree. I felt relieved that it was all over. It was the right thing to do; but as is often the case, the right thing is sometimes the hardest of all things. Today I just feel the spaces where he used to be, along with all the other spaces of loved ones that I still miss. I get the impression that all the goodbyes over our lifetimes slowly turn us into honeycombs.