Grief

There's a saying in nursing "Pain is what the patient says it is". It basically means that everyone's pain is specific to them, to their perception, and to how they are dealing with it. Today, my pain is 10/10. Unbearable, and uncontrollable.

It will sound trite to people, however yesterday we lost our family cat, Abbey. She was an old girl (a rescue cat so we were never sure how old she was, but we had her 16 years, and she was a few years old by that point), and she was getting progressively more frail, but when my mum called yesterday to say she had deteriorated, I knew the time had come. I know everyone says this about their pets, but Abbey was one of a kind. She was kind - she never bit or scratched (apart from my parents' leather sofa, which was a constant victim much to my mother's frustration), she loved nothing more than a cuddle and mum's breakfast, she was naughty and bullied me - the weak link - until she got what she wanted, which she always did. She was loved. She was the centre point of our family. 

Losing Abbey is the first loss in the family that I remember fully. We lost our grandad when I was young, and I don't really remember him. We lost another cat when I was 12, and apparently I spent a week on the sofa, but again, I don't remember it hurting this much.

I suppose the only thing I can equate this to is when I broke up with my ex boyfriend. The pain is similar. The feeling that I've had the middle of my chest ripped out, the constant numbness, then the hit that comes every half hour or so, knocking all the wind out and leaving you breathless. I had a dream last night that it had been an error, that she had been to the vet and they had cured her. She was fine and shouting at home for me. When I woke, there was that 30 seconds where all felt well, where there was peace, then it hit again. Agony.

I did get to say goodbye to her on Sunday, after she had stayed with me for 2 weeks. I had a feeling that it would be one of the last times I would see her, but that doesn't make it easier yet.

Of course, there are good things to focus on. She was loved, and she loved us. We had 16 lovely years together. She was there through good times, through sickness, through sadness. She gave us a lot. Losing her feels like a huge loss. There's now a gap in the centre, and in its place is a whole lot of pain. Pain and grief.

Goodbye Abbey, sleep well (you always did!). We will always miss and love you, endlessly. Thank you for being my little cat.


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