The Long, Short Walk
I swear, to all the stars in the cosmos, I'll never forget you were a gift
It seems to defy physics that the sun still shines, that it hasn't collapsed into the emptiness I feel growing inside me. It's not a long walk but I keep stopping. To hold your paw, to make sure you know I am there, tears streaming down my face. I will be there up until the moment you are not. My steps are impossibly slow and heavy, the 10 minute walk seeming to take an eternity. I do not want what happens at the other end.
The day I adopted you from that small farmhouse in rural Ontario, the little girl of the family followed us to the car, putting wildflowers in your crate the whole way. When was that? Yesterday? A decade ago? I don't know where the years went. I know I got ten years with you, but it wasn't enough. No amount of time would have been enough. You are so thin, your bones so prominent and you can hardly hold yourself up. I sat with you for hours today, you seemed to not be present, coming back to me every once in a while to reach out for me with your paw. I am still here. I stop when I see small white flowers growing out the sidewalk. I gently put your carrier down and tuck two into your crate. One for hello, one for goodbye.
I am not exaggerating to say you gave me everything I have. You pulled me through the worst year of my life, helping me land in Toronto. You got me out of bed on the worst days, comforting me, clambering all over me to find the perfect spot to purr. You were there through the pandemic, through my entire life collapsing, so many moves and importantly, my best friend on the best days. I couldn't have found myself without you. I couldn't have built this life without you.
It's lymphoma, the aggressive kind. It doesn't make sense that I went from having you to only having hours left. The options were hospitalize you and maybe never see you again or hold you when the inevitable happened. I spent the whole day with you, feeling you purr, trying to commit an incorruptible memory of how soft and sweet you are. From moment to moment I am wrenched from sobbing into a terrifying feeling of normalcy. It's just us, together, like we always have been. Even when it happens, other people will be in the room but it will be us, together, like we were meant to be. I watch your eyes fade, you are still there but what made you my best friend is gone. It doesn't make any sense. She will take your carrier when we leave, I am too afraid to touch it and as we walk out of the dimly lit room, I see the world has chosen to cry with me. The sun has not collapsed, but eclipsed by clouds, rain and a swell of tears in my eyes that will not stop.
I thought I would wake up and think you were there, but I knew, images of you looking so peaceful floating through my mind without end. You live in the crevices, in the habits and glances. I know you are gone, but I still check for you before I pull the covers over to not disturb your sleep, still glance into the hallway at your favourite spot, still see you in corners you can't be. Please stay. You are not haunting the house, you are haunting me. It hurts so much and doesn't feel real. I don't know how both of those things can be true. Please, please don't go. Every small task is taking a lifetime, already cruelly stretching out how long you've been gone. Time drags and lengthens when you are not here. I miss you so much. My best friend, my constant companion, my lifesaver. I love you, Kafka. I wish I had a bigger word, a better one you could have understood, even just once but that's really just what it is. I love you. I always, always will.
Rest easy, sweet girl. I'll see you again someday.
Thank you for all the kind words, and thank you Kellie for holding me when I needed it most. I had booked off an extra long weekend to spend with Kafka but she deteriorated so quickly. Originally, I was going to do a little staycation challenge where I published something small every day I was off work. I have no idea if I'll do that or not. It may prove too much given I can't stop crying or it may prove to be a good distraction. I have no idea, grief is a strange beast. All my love with nowhere to go. I miss my best friend, my editor, my sweet, sweet girl.
