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A Lost Part of Me
Most of the time I do all right. I am sad, but I don’t cry. Then there are days when I miss him so much I just want to lock myself in my bedroom and scream and cry into my pillow. It has been around eight months since Cupid died, and not a day has gone by during which I didn’t think of him.
I can’t bring myself to look at pictures of him. They’re like flashing neon signs showing me what I no longer have; they remind me how amazing he was - not that I ever forget - and make me miss him so much I can’t breathe. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at them, but I want to keep them. I took so many pictures of him.
When people ask me about my cats, I feel guilty leaving Cupid out, but it’s morbid to say, “and I had another one, but he died last December.” No one wants to hear that. But my heart is in a vice grip every time I have to exclude my precious Cupid. He was such an enormous part of my life for his entire 6 years and a few months during gestation. I’ve loved him with every cell in my body and now I have to leave someone who was the most precious thing in my life out of idle conversation.
My psychiatrist said that it’s the same as losing a child. Not everyone gets as attached to their pets, but for those who do, it is no different. I know that a lot of people - most people - won’t understand that. He was “just a cat.” People often referred to Cupid as my child, and it always annoyed me, for he was so much more. I chose to incorporate him into my life. I picked him. I knew from the moment I fell in love with him as he sat in my hands the first time I visited him, that he was always going to me than “just a cat” in our home.
He brought us both so much joy over the years. He and I had a mutual love for each other that cats less spoiled and loved and their humans never get to experience. Maybe it was because I got him early and became his surrogate mother. Maybe it was because I held him all the time, let him sleep in my lap, let him sleep in my shirt, and didn’t leave him alone for his first two weeks in my house. It was a little - no, a lot - like bringing home your first baby. Yet so much better.
I would give everything I have to have Cupid back. I’d sell my soul to the Devil if there were one. I’d do any number of illegal and morally corrupt things. It’d be my first wish if I were to encounter a genie. It’s a loss that will never go away; a desire that can’t ever be satisfied, and an ache always in my soul.
I love him so much.
