The end of the menagerie. Rest in Peace furrylove.
Truth is, Lela was my mom’s last companion. After my Dad died, Tabitha died on a Christmas Eve, then Norton left us and well, Lela was with my mom up until she got too ill to be on her own.
Lela went to live with my friend and wonderful sister in life, Lisa. Lisa and Carl loved her, cared for her. There is nobody else in the world who could have given her more love in her last days, especially when she was missing my mom so much. I can never thank Lisa and Carl enough for being the caring, wonderful parents to a cat who felt so alone, and needed love so much.
So, yesterday, when Lisa called to tell me that Lela was dying (and she did pass on at about 6pm), I had two reactions:
1. That I’ve actually, seriously, had it up to my eyeballs with death this year. In fact, I’ve seriously lost enough now. I don’t think I can bear losing anyone else I love. No parents, no menagerie. I have very little of my childhood left. Now that I think about it, all I have is my memories. And yes, those are real and vivid but, they’re not someone whose hand I can hold now. I know my siblings are feeling similarly. It sucks, plainly, to grow up. At a time when I wish for my parents to be with me right now, I have very little of them left. I have my memories and I have the photos. I have their words. I know I have their words.
2. Sarcastically, hilariously, I realised that now…well now, my folks are up doing whatever they’re doing in Heaven, with all their animal familiars. The menagerie. Tabitha will be sitting, sleeping, to the right of my dad. Norton will be licking his toes and making that weird tongue thing he does. Lela will be mewing, quietly, and sitting to the right of my mom, waiting for foodies. My folks? They’ll be talking, smoking, laughing. Dad will be reading the paper, mom will have flung her arm over her head. My siblings will find that funny.
I’d like to just think about that today. That particular scene.