Dear El ,
It has only been a day since the vet came and took you away from me. It was, perhaps, the right decision despite being one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I didn’t want you to suffer. I didn’t want you to waste away. I hope you understand but somehow doubt you do. I doubt everything right now.
The selfish part of me wants you to still be here, to help sooth my own suffering. Within an hour of your death I couldn’t think about anything except my desire to hold you, hug you, kiss the top of your head and hear you purr. But I couldn’t. I still can’t. I never will again. Sadly, (this is something I shouldn’t admit, even to you, Chubby girl), because I couldn’t hold you I collected a ball of the fur you left behind and I held that. It didn’t help, of course. It was kind of gross, and frankly, it wasn’t you, it was simply another thing you’d left behind.
For such a little kitty, the empty space you’ve left behind is enormous.
My beautiful girl, I miss you.