- Joined
- Jul 9, 2019
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It's been 32 days today since I lost my "soul-cat" and best pal, Nemo. In my time zone, today is Saturday afternoon, August 10th, 2019. This day has been the most intense day of grief I have experienced thus far over the loss of Nemo. Many tears are being shed and my heartache is so intense I sometimes wish I were dead so that I wouldn't feel it. I truly can't remember a time or circumstance where I felt a more intense grief. I did not grieve like this when my mother died nor when my engagement was broken off with my first love back in 1995. The grief from losing a pet that has become a "soul companion" is no joke, folks.
Here are most of the pictures I have of Nemo, spanning a few years from when he was just the "neighbor cat" to when he melted my heart and got me to start letting him grow closer to us. The exterior pictures were when he started to come into our yard. Eventually he ended up being given his own place in our garage (the interior shots), and finally he was invited into our home (no pics of that, unfortunately).
I know, logically, that eventually I will "get past" my grief. It's human nature. We can't continue to experience that raw, hard level of pain indefinitely and still function. Eventually our mind and heart will enable us to feel the pain less and less--not because we didn't love those we have lost, but because we MUST survive and carry on--and that is impossible unless we are able feel the pain of loss on a lesser and lesser scale over time. I know this, but right now, in the moment, I don't care. I am in great pain and I miss my Nemo so very much. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he had been sick for a while and we knew his end was coming? As it was, he was happy and full of energy on a Friday/Saturday, and then on Sunday he wasn't. On the following Tuesday we had to put him down at the vet's advice due to kidney failure. I find myself wondering if he weren't poisoned somehow by a neighbor, or perhaps got into some antifreeze?
I miss you, Nemo. My life is sadder without you here. I'll go on, eventually, but right now I must grieve for you...
Here are most of the pictures I have of Nemo, spanning a few years from when he was just the "neighbor cat" to when he melted my heart and got me to start letting him grow closer to us. The exterior pictures were when he started to come into our yard. Eventually he ended up being given his own place in our garage (the interior shots), and finally he was invited into our home (no pics of that, unfortunately).
I know, logically, that eventually I will "get past" my grief. It's human nature. We can't continue to experience that raw, hard level of pain indefinitely and still function. Eventually our mind and heart will enable us to feel the pain less and less--not because we didn't love those we have lost, but because we MUST survive and carry on--and that is impossible unless we are able feel the pain of loss on a lesser and lesser scale over time. I know this, but right now, in the moment, I don't care. I am in great pain and I miss my Nemo so very much. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he had been sick for a while and we knew his end was coming? As it was, he was happy and full of energy on a Friday/Saturday, and then on Sunday he wasn't. On the following Tuesday we had to put him down at the vet's advice due to kidney failure. I find myself wondering if he weren't poisoned somehow by a neighbor, or perhaps got into some antifreeze?
I miss you, Nemo. My life is sadder without you here. I'll go on, eventually, but right now I must grieve for you...