A Grief Which Persists

On 1st September 2021, I lost the best friend I have ever had.

It was April of 2015 when I initially met her. I was outside in my garden and there she was, walking tentatively across the dew-laden grass.

She was a delight. Our eyes met and we held each other’s gaze for a few seconds and then she went on her way. I knew in that instant I had met someone important.

Every day from that point on, she would be out there. She didn’t let me touch her for a full 10 months but it didn’t matter, I would go outside just to be with her. Eventually, she let me stroke her albeit briefly and that was that. We held each other’s gaze once more. The strongest bond imaginable was forged in that moment.

Our life together began.

We built upon that bond and soon developed a rapport which was demonstrably affectionate. Tender.

Wherever I was, she was. Wherever she was, I was.

At night, she would lay up beside me and I would put my hand on her paw and she would squeeze my fingers and I would gently squeeze hers back.

She used to run towards me very much like a horse during dressage. She would hold her head up high, making eye contact and then run towards me in a sort of exaggerated yet entirely natural fashion. It was something to see. It would melt my heart every time.

She didn’t miaow, instead she would make a miniature roar type of sound. It was very cute.

I never showed favouritism with the other 2 cats in terms of time spent with them or cuddles and petting given however there was a very unique bond between us. It was as if she was a fully actualised person housed within the smallest cat body. She stood less than a foot high from the pads of her paws to the tip of her ears. She was tiny yet occupied a massive place within my heart.

Her loss has broken me.

I find myself standing outside looking for her, hoping that somehow I have got it wrong and that she is okay, alive and just lost and will soon find her way back home. I know this is not the case. I just can’t bear the thought I will never see or hear her again. I loved the sound she made when she played with her toy. Those adorable vocalisations filled the entire house which in turn became a home.

One tiny creature in the grand scheme of things, made the world of difference to me and at times, she was pretty much the only thing which kept me afloat. I suffer with depression. I live with autism. I am ‘different.’ I am ‘other’ where the human race is concerned. She saw through that. She saw me and clearly liked the person she found there and stayed by my side for nearly 6.5 years.

She was the love of my life and I miss her.

I miss her beautiful big round saucer eyes. I miss holding her close to me and hearing her purr and then feeling that purr resonate throughout my entire being. I miss her smell, which was of the garden, cookie dough, and freshly washed linen sheets all rolled into one.

She was magnificent. She was wonderful. She was kind. She was loving. She accepted me totally. She witnessed my meltdowns, and my tears. She sat with me during catatonic phases where I would stare blankly at the wall, sometimes for hours at a time. She did so without judgement. She did so because she wanted to be there, with me.

I miss seeing her run towards me and then me getting down to walk on all fours around the kitchen beside her. Always 3 times in a row which culminated on each lap with her rubbing her little face against the wall.

I miss her sitting in my lap and grooming while I stroked her. I miss watching her pause within that to look at me before going back to washing herself again.

I miss her sitting on the table in front of me, nonchalantly looking out the window yet knowing she was the centre of my attention, the epicentre of my world.

Xev is irreplaceable.

The grief persists.

I don’t just feel lonely without her. I feel alone.

I have lost the one person on this journey through life who not only truly knew me but who also completely understood me.

I was accepted. I was loved. So was she. I adored her. She was my everything.

The loss is unbearable.

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