Last month I had to make the difficult decision to have my cat, Maya, put to sleep. Deciding to end her life, end her pain and suffering, was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made in my life, even though I knew how right it was. We had done what we could through the summer to care for her and provide her with at least some quality of life, but the cancer had run its course. The day I finally made the decision, I had looked into her eyes and knew she was telling me it was time; she fought hard and long, I think for both our sakes, but she was tired and it was time for me to let her go. I was told that being a part of this process was a gift. As I dealt with the rawness of my emotions in making that decision, I really struggled with being able to see that. It wasn't until the moments just before and during her transition that I got it. The moment of Maya's death will always be one of the most sacred moments of my life and it's that sacredness I am feeling called to share because it's the sharing that continues my healing.
On her last day, we spent the entire afternoon outside, resting in the grass, listening to the birds sing and the crickets chirp, warmed by the sun, cooled by the breeze. It was a good day for her as far as the effects of her illness were concerned. She even had one last token squirrel chase :) My entire family came to say bye to her and my mom drove us to the vet. It was the first time ever that Maya did not cry during the car ride. Maybe she knew peace would soon be hers. At the vet's office, I knelt down at the examining table so I could be level with her face. I rubbed her head and under her chin as I looked into her eyes. Our eyes never once wavered from each other. That's when I felt The Gift. In that moment we became connected as one and encapsulated in a bubble of love as if nothing and no one else existed. All I could think was that together we were experiencing one of the most beautiful moments life has to offer. It truly was a gift to be so present with her as she made her transition. And she fell asleep and was gone. Although never, ever gone.
I know she is still here with me in spirit, as much as I miss the tangible comforts of her purring, the smell of her fur as I bury my face in it, the feel of it tickling my nose, the warmth of her resting against me. She was my constant companion through many major transitions in my life, through the height of my joys and the depths of my sorrows. I can see so clearly now how much she took care of me. In the days following her death, the depth of the love I felt for her was so intense; the emotions coming in waves, ebbing and flowing, building and crashing. At times I felt empty and then filled with so much love I knew my heart was expanding beyond any capacity known before. I am in love with those moments and with this moment…the joy of memories intermingled with heartache. It hurts so good. It’s something to feel, this life so real, that’s for sure.
“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.” -Kahlil Gibran
