The bath when sad
reminds me of the last day
my cat was alive.
I bathed in ablution
before I went to put him
to sleep.
Afterwards, when I got home
to the empty house
I bathed in ablution again
and cried and cried.
Then I remember how
5 minutes after I had put him
to sleep,
out in the parking lot of the vet,
my partner at the time
argued with me about
when would I be showing up
to hangout with her and her girls
that night.
I remember that feeling;
complete disbelief and despair
that she would argue with me,
care about needing to know
such a thing, there in that moment,
in such a raw and tender moment,
the lifeless body of my 17 year old
cat laying right before us
wrapped in a towel
in the trunk of my car
… and then,
I get more sad.
Now —
The cat is gone.
She is gone.
Her girls are gone.
The cat is a spiritual presence
for me still, an everlasting being
and feeling of love.
She is something I don’t want
to remember, but still do
in lots of hurtful ways.
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