Went up to my grandmother's for [Easter] dinner and told my mom and sister today that the day had been set. My mom will either be meeting me at the vet on Tuesday, or will be driving up with me; I'm not sure yet. My Love took the day off so he can be there with me and so I won't have to be alone at all that day.
I find myself second-guessing my choice; seeing so much Kush left in his eyes when he looks at me that I worry I'm doing the right thing. Then I see him try to lay down and the fucking tumors getting in the way - the one, larger then a grapefruit, just dominating his fur-and-bones body. He's just such a fighter, and he managed the last seven months when the vet predicted about six weeks, that I worry about waking up Wednesday morning and realizing I killed my cat and questioning if it was the right thing to do. He comes by and sprawls on my lap like he has everyday for the last thirteen years and I wonder how I can even think to do this and stop having that... I try to tell myself I'm being brave and doing for him what he can't do for himself, but the words sound hollow and meaningless in my heart.
So many people have been supportive; sending me emails and leaving comments and sharing their thoughts it makes me realize how much he's touched my life and the lives of those around me. He's just an amazing little guy and he has such a personality about him, you can't miss it. Except I'll be missing it from now on, for the rest of my life, in the next day and a half. How cruel it is; this bloody cancer; this stealer of lives and love and hope. This monster inside that eats from within. This healthy cat; vibrant, full of life; full of love and happy, lost, gone, taken from me by something none of us could fight and none of us could foresee.
Watched some of the NHL playoffs today and though I didn't get to see the end (had to leave to go to dinner), I understand the Lightning won today and are going to the second round in the first time ever of the team's existance. It's nice to know sometimes that outside our pain, the world goes on and that someone shed tears of joy; not sorrow.
Tomorrow...tomorrow will be hell I think. Spending the whole day knowing it's our last together. Even now, when technically it is tomorrow (as I write this, I've yet to go to bed and I think of it still as Sunday), I can't accept it. I blather here instead to try to stave off those final hours. The last night he'll sleep on my bed...
My little gift. My precious, patient, beautiful, brilliant kitty. Who taught me the concept of unconditional love and gave that love no matter what I looked like, wore, how my day went, if I were rich or if I were poor. My little grey feline who taught me beauty and grace and showed me the simple joys of togetherness. My beloved little boy who found me when I cried and purred with me when I laughed. Just a girl and her cat and the world was suddenly a little bit better.
I'm stalling. I think I'll stop, go to bed and let tomorrow come since it will no matter what I wish for. I just don't want to lose him. And I just don't want to be without.
~ flowers bloom near Memory and Dream
at 4/21/2003 02:36:22 AM ~
~
