I wasn’t prepared for how fast death came. He only had been mine for six months, but as soon as the drug hit his veins, he was gone. As the vet guided him on his back with her hand, his breathing stopped. I expected to hold it together for him, to be the one to guide him down his path, but I couldn’t. The most I did was reach out and touch his side with the tips of my fingers as he went. As the vet carried his blanket-wrapped body out of the small examination room I buried my face in my mom’s chest. I had been crying before, but not as hard as I had in that moment.
I don’t really think that anyone ever really gets over that type of thing. His name was Dean, and he was a long-haired black-and-white cat. He had a little smudge of black on his nose that looked like someone took an ink-dipped finger and wiped it on his nose. He had the most beautiful green eyes that could melt the heart of anyone who looked into them. November 27, 2017, he passed away. Four months after we adopted him he was diagnosed with polyps in his inner ear. A polyp is an abnormal tissue growth. Because of where his polyp was, it would have been expensive and risky to remove. There was a high possibility that the polyp would have grown back. Unfortunately, the only thing that could be done for him, was to make him comfortable in the last stages of his life.
My last night with Dean was a hard one. When I carried him to my room that night, I had tears in my eyes. I remember never wanting that night to end. I remember being heartbroken and angry at the same time. Why was this happening to me? Why did such a great cat deserve to have such a short life? So many thoughts were buzzing through my mind as I pulled the blankets over us and wrapped myself around his body. In that dark basement bedroom I repeated, “I will always love you” over and over and over again. Tears streamed down my face as he struggled to breathe. I don’t remember the tears ever stopping that night.
That next morning I paced back and forth, holding him in my arms waiting for the vet to come back in with the syringe. The room was bright, and smelled of industrial cleaner. It was quite small, with an examination table to the right in the room. As I walk back and forth he buried his head in my chest, and began to shake. This broke my heart a little bit more, because up until then, he didn’t want to be touched let alone held. Having that moment with him in my arms made the whole situation a bit bearable. As I held him close to my heart my mom tended to my little niece, who is under one-year old. This last moment with him was both heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time. I am truly thankful that I was able spend these last precious moments with him.
While he was passing I lost it. I had cried before in my life, but never with this much emotion. Never with this much agony. Some think in times of great distress your true colors come out. All of your layers have been removed and you’ve been stripped down to your purest form. I like to think, at my purest form, I am strong and brave, but in reality, I wasn’t. I was a mess. It didn’t happen the way I wanted it too. I wanted to hold him while he passed on, but all I could do for him was stand two feet away, and hold my fingertips on his side, all while shaking and crying.
After your loved one is gone you might feel empty. Void. Like you don’t want anything or anyone, except for what you can’t have. A lot of people might tell you that you will get over it, but the truth is that you shouldn’t. Getting over it implies that the hole in your heart isn’t there anymore. You should get over breaking your favorite cup, not the loss of a family member.
Fact is, you will never get over it. You might bury it and push the sorrow down, but every once in a while, it will come back. Instead of getting over it, you can accept it. Realize what has happened. Greave. Don’t rush yourself, and as time goes on some things might get easier to talk about. Easier to accept. You won’t be able to fill the hole in your heart, but at least you can accept it as a part of you, learn to love it, and decorate it with memories.
—Emily Hammonds, junior Grace Holistic Center for Education in Yorkville
