I really feel like once a month, up until the day, the moment of Sunny's death, my soul remembers that it has been cruelly ripped in half and that he is here no longer although I can feel him around me. I can feel him in a faded dream of running my fingers through his soft, short fur on the search for dirt, grooming him. I can sense him sometimes, a cat standing beside me or coming near my knee. When we come home from grocery shopping we still expect him to come running, to still be excited about what we have retrieved but... but Sunny is physically here no longer. His love remains and I believe his spirit, but the cat himself is gone, leaving nothing but a few veterinary records, a sympathy card from the vets who killed him for us, photos, a wooden box with a brass nameplate that is filled with a clear plastic bag that contains his ashes and a collar, a tragic, empty, faded purple collar with a cold metal mousie tag that is battered but still engraved with his name, an old medal of honour for a mouse he caught but never killed.
Yes, I'm still grieving. Sunny wasn't a cat. He was a person and he was my very best friend.
Rest in peace buddy. I pray hard that I will never forget you.
With hensyn love and eternally yours,
Rosy.
I still can't believe that you're gone. :(
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