This Too?
they said
this too
shall pass
her eyes?
her soft raspy meow?
the way she reaches out to touch your face
grasping around in the darkness?
her purr?
how she tells you which part of her neck to scratch?
the way she holds on
when she sleeps?
this too
shall pass?
My roommate's cat, Kiki, is having kidney problems. That's what my roommate says, a weird color's turned up in her litterbox. He's not sure how bad it is. They might have to put her down.
I hate this part. The waiting. The not knowing. It's the little bit of hope you have -- maybe they'll save her, maybe it isn't that bad, maybe anything -- that makes the waiting worse. You could get on with accepting it, grieving, if there weren't that little bit of hope in your heart. But, on the other hand, maybe.
I don't know what to do. I was already going to miss her as it is, given that I'm leaving this place in a little while. All I can do is carry on. Keep what I can of her memory. I think I get why Mom takes so many photos. It makes the work of remembering easier, more physical. The albums, the framed pictures, it all helps you to remember, even when things fade away. What else can you do? I've got a few photos of Kiki, some videos. I know it won't be the same, but that's okay. It doesn't have to be. Loss doesn't always have to make holes you can fill. All the pictures need to help me do is remember.
I prayed today. For just a little more time for her. Time, mercy, and grace. It's all we can ask for. The world breathes in, the world breathes out, the world spins on.
P.S.: good news, she's probably going to be fine! Just has to stay overnight at the vet.