Exactly one month ago today, on April 9th, our sweet cat Bentwood passed away. It happened on Easter Sunday, a significant and comforting day for life and death and the ultimate victory of life over death.
In addition to it happening on Easter, another tender mercy was that Bentwood's passing happened in the way that I prayed for it to happen--peacefully and naturally at home. He went on his own and I didn't have to make the hard choice of putting him down (I've still never had to do that with any of my pets). And although he must have felt uncomfortable, he didn't seem to be in much pain, either.
I found out a month earlier that he had lymphoma, and the vet thought he only had a few weeks to maybe a few months to live, so I knew it was coming. I'm so thankful that I knew in advance so that I could spend extra time with him and be extra gentle and loving and attentive. Bentwood deserved all of the best. He was in our family for 18 years and has always been the sweetest cat. We got him when John was only a year old and when we still had my dog from high school. He's been with us for all of our pets: Christy, Brody, Yogi, Boo Boo, and Violet. His loss has made our home feel different, a little emptier and quieter, like something is missing (because it is).
I miss his meow and his easygoing, affectionate personality and his limping walk and his soft silky fur and the sound of his "paw steps" walking across the floor. I miss our weekly brushing session and I miss startling him awake (because I'm a tease like that) and I miss picking him up and holding him and cuddling with him. I'll miss him until I see him again, and I fully believe that I will see him again and that we'll be together forever. He's in a good place with all of the above-mentioned pets (except for Violet of course since she's still earthbound). I like to imagine him running around outside in perpetually perfect weather, playing with his friends and eating and sleeping to his heart's content. I know that I'll be with him again someday.