The Long Goodbye
I've gone back and forth whether to write this post or not, wondering if it was too cruel to put myself through the act of writing about the difficult day waiting for my family. This has been the shittiest summer, starting off with a serious health scare for us, the loss of my father-in-law and now this. If G-d is testing us, well, I think I've had more than enough.
As I sit in our library, surrounded by the books I love, I can hear the labored breathing of our beloved, adorable, sweet cat Max trying to sleep in our leather desk chair next to me.
Today will be our last one together.
Fourteen years ago when our son, Jordan, talked us into adopting our first cat I had no idea how it'd change my life. I grew up without pets. But our nine year old was smart and adamant about adopting a ginger, that beautiful colored animal my Aunt Ilsa once told me brought a family good luck. She was right. So was Jordan.
Good luck, unconditional love and countless blessings have filled our hearts by having him. It's an unexplainable feeling that only pet owners can understand.
It didn't take me long to fall in love with Max. As a freelance writer working from home we spend a lot of time together. He guards me when I'm sick, sits on my lap purring as I watch TV or read, sleeps on top of my legs and follows me around the house. He runs to me when I come home and learned early on how to open any closed doors that kept us apart.
We love him so dearly, admittedly more than our other two cats because he's unique. He's like a person. He wants to be a close member of the family. Wherever we're home he has to be near one of us.
Today I have to give the ultimate gift of letting him go and I don't quite know how to process that. Not having him with us leaves an empty space in our broken hearts. For the second time this summer we're learning firsthand that love means letting go when the cost of pain and suffering is too high. Our sacrifice is unselfish but the most difficult to do.
And so it goes with life. We experience great joys that are impermanent. Great changes that are unbearable. And broken hearts that won't ever fully mend.
I have no words of comfort for my son, husband or myself. This weekend was our long goodbye as we huddled in silence caressing our sweet boy. Our vacation plans are cancelled. We are worn and filled with grief from the losses we have suffered this summer.
Only time can comfort us now.
