This is going to be raw. I don’t know how else do talk about this.
Five days after I returned from my time in Atlanta and Tennessee, I had to say goodbye to my sweet cat, Marty.
He was such a fighter and so stubborn at times. After the vet discovered the lymphoma, they gave him a month to live. Marty gave me 8 months.
I’ve had trouble writing lately, because I want to write about him. But when I do, I cry hard. I miss him so badly and it still hurts.
His loss has made me think about those other lights I’ve lost. So today, here’s what I’m missing:
mornings on the porch, sipping tea, watching Marty explore the yard
the way he dipped his paw into milk to drink it
Marty’s stare in the middle of the afternoon, when he was ready for food
how he licked my little cat Cami clean when my mom brought her home
the way Marty curled up between my legs at night so we could sleep
the wrestling fights he and Hugo would get into
the moments where all he wanted to do was be next to me and sleep
how I kissed his belly hundreds of times after the surgery, wishing for a miracle
watching the transformation as Marty went from a scared cat from the pound to a trusting loyal friend
I wake up some mornings and still can’t believe I arrived here, that he’s gone. He was the glue in my little family of human plus three cats.
I’ve been thinking of all he taught me — to take time, to slow down, to love unconditionally and fiercely.
My heart is broken, but I am so incredibly grateful for all the time we did have.