Green eyes dilute with age, my feline friend conveys a dignity far greater than mine.
A pull bonded by years both knowing it will end, at least in this physical realm and time.
Preparing for what I know must come and yet, part of my destiny too.
Sharing these last hours although different than I, the magnetic tug endures, not to be parted from you.
And yet I must let you be free.
She senses my sadness, how hard to let her go but with an unspoken ‘it’s okay – this is the way it should be’.
This circle of life.
I leave her to sleep, to choose her own time,
But my desire to be near I gently disturb, gathering her weak body warm, close to mine,
her plumpness diminished revealing the curve of her ribs and contour of spine.
I drink in the sweet smell of fur a memory to recall at some distant, unimagined time.
Her purr once given so freely now comes raspy with effort but offered to reassure.
Still she gives more. My precious one.
No longer able to lazily stretch, white tummy exposed to enjoy the May sun
but lying sphinx-like a position to endure, five minutes or more.
The birds once prey now chatter and chirp, keeping a distance borne of respect.
Do they too sense her gathering end?
The pure joy of having known and shared a love.
Emotion poignant with loss, etched with privilege of witnessing life waned
and laced with the inevitable sadness to come.
The circle complete. My precious one.