Death leaves behind a void. New life fills up every empty space possible. Since Maya came, I’ve had very little time to blog or do anything else except take care of her daily needs. A month went by and I have no idea how it did. Shanthala says that from the day we came home from the hospital with Maya, day and night has merged and it all seems like one long day.

If Maya is the first thought as I awake (to her cries for food), Kitty is the last thought before I sleep. He waits patiently for me, waiting for things to calm and settle down, before making his presence felt. Even now, as I try to complete the blog before the stroke of midnight, the one thing I want to do to remember his death, she’s cryingto be put to sleep.

Today, I spoke to a close friend who essentially went incommunicado during my darkest days after Kitty’s loss. Not understanding my relationship, he brusquely said “Why don’t you get another cat if you’re so upset by his loss ?”. It hurt and I wanted to tell him that I missed him during those days. Talking today about other things, the conversation drifted to Kitty’s death. He said, “That cat taught you a lot”. Tears flowed as I heard those words.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while, but the opportunity never arose”, I said, “I missed your not being there during the days and weeks following his death”.

He was silent and then said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why or how, but I completely misread your feelings and didn’t know how deeply you felt for him.”

“Since his death, I find everything so ephemeral”, I said. “I don’t look at Maya and say here’s what we’ll do when you’re five. I say if you and I are together when you’re five..”

“I know what you mean, but don’t get depressed at the ephemeralness”.

“I’m not depressed. Quite the opposite, I appreciate and am so much more grateful for each day”, I said.

I’ve started telling Maya about Kitty. Neuroscience has found that even as we remember the past, we change our memories of it, shaping it to be more and more of what we remember, rather than what was. She’ll never know Kitty, only our recollections of him. But it’s futile to assume that she ever could. He’s gone.

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