Day 3

Back to work.

It's hard some days not to take the grayness of a rainy morning personally. Although, I suppose, I am not sure how a sunny day would be better. I guess it is more accurate to say that it is hard some days not to take the continued existence of the universe personally.

I know others have suffered arguably greater losses within the last few days. Human life should typically outweigh that of an animal, I guess. But is it my fault that my best friend was a cat?

Probably.

I don’t know what the proper time frame to grieve would be…I am torn between trying to convince myself she was just a cat and dedicating so much emotion is becoming a spectacle (I knew she would no longer be here one day, even if I apparently hadn’t accepted that fact) and the urge to hold onto this pain like her body. As though trapping this tightness in my chest for the rest of my life will slowly regenerate her over time and bind her to me for eternity. That would be cruel, though, wouldn’t it? She had always wanted her freedom.

Or more freedom.

Her body is gone.

I know that at least.

Her body probably left on Saturday, and hopefully that isn’t something you feel. I will find out when I die- and I guess if I have to share in that suffering I’ll feel better knowing it came for me as well. But her body is gone and a transformed representation of it will come back at some point this week. There’s supposed to be an engraving. I’m not sure where I will keep her. I should have put one of the toys she liked with her. I didn’t think. She had a blanket. She looked comfortable. She could maybe have used a toy.

At some point my memories will have to shift back to her life more than my regret toward her death. I spent so much more of her life with her- I didn’t see her death at all and the rigidness afterwards was only with us a few hours. Waking hours at least.

I think I am focusing on that part, although it was so little of our time together, so that I don’t forget and confuse myself. So that I am not disappointed after thinking about her laying on my chest, grumbling and stretching out her paws toward my face, as though she were trying to bring me closer to her, that this is not something she can ever do for me again.

I’m trying not to lose the sound of her voice from my memory palace. I need a picture of her in a frame.

The other duality I am trying to navigate is the drive now to ensure that everything I love knows how much I love it vs the desire to restrict how much I love so that nothing ever hurts again. Which investment choice is more practical? Which am I more capable of? I have retreated in a small sense from society by cutting off a few avenues of social media.

It feels unfair to treat the kitten better because Isis is gone. It feels equally unfair to be more aloof toward her. I think what this is helping me to realize is that one of my biggest problems lies in not being confident of my feelings.

I fear the focus of my life cannot be regret. I will eventually have to push through like a spritely Korean heroine.

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