How am I doing?
I’ve been asked the question more times than I can count over the past week. Sometimes by people just making small talk or as a casual greeting, other times by those that know I’ve suffered the loss of two cats in four days. To the latter, I sometimes reply to the effect I’m carrying on, or I’m hanging in there… but the vast majority of times I simply reply I’m okay.
Truth of the matter – I’m NOT okay. It’s NOT okay to lose something so precious. The pain is a physical ache in my heart. It’s almost fitting Louie ruptured an anal sac, as the raw open wound he physically exhibits seems to reflect my broken heart.
I cry, a lot. I dread going home at night. I dread crawling out of bed in the morning. Waking hours at home are spent constantly reminding myself they’re gone.
I was okay when I lost Afer. I was sad, I cried… but I carried on because that’s what has to be done. One friend even remarked how calm I was the day after I lost her…. But now losing Omie too… I can’t bear it. It’s been over a week and the pain is still so fresh and raw…
I know I have the other cats, and they need me too.. but it’s not the same. I don’t think I realized how much tending for my little man occupied my thoughts the entire time I was home – Does he need his diaper checked? Does he need carried upstairs? Downstairs? Has he fallen and can’t get up? I don’t remember ever feeling the slightest annoyance at needing to do these things. Removing the safety gate from the bedroom doorway that ensured Omaha didn’t fall down the stairs, putting away the sub-q fluid supplies Afer doesn’t need, even removing the old empty box that prevented Omaha from wandering behind the fridge – none of it was a relief, but rather salt in the wound – reminding me it was all gone.
So, honestly, how am I? I’m hurt. I’m crying. I ache for Afer and Omaha and wish I could hold them in my arms once more. I’ve even snuck on to petfinder.org and peeked at the many cats for adoption, irrationally thinking maybe there would be another Afer or another Omaha that could come in and fill that empty hole left behind. There’s not. There never will be.
I know they were cats, not people – but I have spent and continue to spend more time with my cats than I do with any human being. My cats are the ones that greet me each morning, listen to my stories, greet me at the door when I get home, crawl into bed with me at night… Omaha was the one that spooned with me as I fell asleep, listening to his loud purrs…
Yes, I have other cats. Yes, they need me to. I’m going through the motions – feeding and medicating and petting and loving. I DO love them. I don’t think I love them any less than the ones I’ve lost. That doesn’t stop the pain. I AM grateful I’m not coming home to no cats at all – I can’t imagine coming home to that complete emptiness. I’m exceedingly grateful for my friends that understand, who’ve expressed condolences and know what Omaha and Afer meant to me.
So, how am I? Ask and I’ll still tell you I’m okay. I AM okay. I will be okay. I will carry on, because I have to. I’ll keep taking care of the wonderful furry companions still with me, and going to work, and delivering cat food, and volunteering with Feline Outreach… and the hurt will never go away, but it’ll heal and become more of a scar than a wound.
Life of the Lintee Bean 
{{{{Lynette}}}} i felt exactly the same when i lost Snoopy. even at one point briefly considered going to dig up his body, just to hold him one more time (guess you’d call this crazy with grief)
wish i could take away the pain. it gets, well, less intense, with time.
Lynnette….dear cyber friend….I’m so sorry, and I understand. Of course NO one can understand completely how YOU feel about YOUR furbabies, especially losing two so close together. I am sending you bunches of (((hugs))) across cyberspace and holding you in my prayers that your pain will lessen as quickly as possible and become only the sweet loving special memories that will carry you forward each day. Before I got Bouncer, I had my Snowflake, a beautiful long-haired snow-white part-persian, for 18 years before she died of heart failure after being ill for only a week (well, maybe she was ill longer than that, but if so she hid it very well). She was my baby, a mommy’s girl from day one. I swear I loved her as much as I loved my children. And after she was gone I never wanted another cat because I knew none could replace her. But 6 months later I found Bouncer as a 9-week old kitten and he was SO adorable I couldn’t resist him and fell in love with him on the spot… But after a month or so of having Bouncer, my heart was freshly broken because I realized that I had tried to find a ‘duplicate’ Snowflake to fill my emptiness, and it simply couldn’t be done. Ultimately of course I came to love Bouncer strictly for BOUNCER, and not as a substitute for my sweet Snowflake, but I still ache sometimes with her memory, even 10 years later. So friend, I do understand, and again, I’m sorry. Many hugs to you.
Love, Marty