Marie

How easy it is, to grow up, to complain about trivial stuff, worry about money, daydream about what you'd do with more money than you'll ever make, and share your impossible dreams with the family that we choose, even, share some sorrows between drinks, or coffee.

Nothing prepares you for the grief of loosing someone you love, of watching the most pure love you've experienced wither away, and painfully purr on your chest so your crying can be eased.

Six years are not enough, nor would have been enough a hundred, but shock takes its toll on an already tragic situation.

It's the first time that I have to personally make the choice to put a pet to sleep, and it's the worse feeling in the world knowing you're doing the best you, or anyone can do, and that very thing, is the thing that's destroying your heart, turning it inside out, and shredding it to bits.

My gramma used to say that the pain never gets better or goes away, you merely get used to feeling it, having this pain with me, raw and new, and bleeding, I wonder how can we get used to such ineffable things, and, moreover, expose ourselves, willingly to go through it again, and again.

Marie came into our lives almost hairless, and with only a few whiskers, she'd been on the streets for what our vet thought were about six months, and we instantly fell in love with her. Tiny little thing, purring in our arms the minute we picked her up. 

We rehabilitated her, her hair and whiskers grew and she was happy, albeit a little skittish around plastic bag noises, God only knows what happened on her first six months of life.

She filled our lives with endless love, the most curious little kitten you've ever seen, and always looking for something to play with.

Made the trip from Buenos Aires all the way to Palma to reunite with us, scared but thankful to be reunited with her family. She came to purr on my chest whenever she felt I was scared, or anxious, or when I had a hard day at work. She rarely kissed you, but when she did you knew it was the purest kiss you would ever receive. 

Now, at six years and seven months, she has incurable cancer, and even walking is a huge task for her. She'll be gone in a few days, and my soul will forever be missing a piece of itself, she gave me life and hope with a single purr, and all I can do is make her comfortable on her last days.

This pain is numbing and at the same time it's making me feel more than I ever knew I could, the grief, half a life stolen from a little angel, that deserved more than I could ever give her, but unconditionally stood by my side all her life, and I will be her to her last breath.

I will forever miss you and love you my whiskered, purring, stripped little angel.