Bittersweet Bear
I had a cat named Grizzly Bear. He died last year, but I can still feel him in my heart whenever he lopes across my mind. It hurts me to think about him, but the pain I feel is bittersweet - bitter because of the grief I still carry, sweet because of the grief I don't want to let go of.
Bear was 11 years old; not ancient, not young, but when he began losing weight and breathing differently, we set an appointment with our vet:
"We wanted to get some bloodwork done, but we noticed his breathing looks intermittently labored; he seems normal and he's still playful, but we're worried."
But Grizzly Bear appeared to be in perfect health during the physical exam, in spite of the weight loss, and his blood came back perfect. We were relieved and joked about having an immortal cat until Dr. Janey caught his irregular breathing. After an X-ray, she asked us to come into the back room to examine the results.
"So, he's actually got a lot of fluid in his chest, which is making it harder for him to breathe," she said, pointing at the X-ray, "but more importantly, his heart is also under a lot of pressure. This is serious."
She didn't tell us what to do, but she gently asked us to consider his quality of life and let us know that she would be available whenever we were ready to have that conversation. We took him home and stayed up with him all night listening to the rapidly worsening, rasping sounds of his breathing and worrying that we were causing him pain to avoid feeling ours. Early the next morning, after Wendy and I decided to take responsibility for his quality of life, he died. When he was gone, I pressed my face against his body like I had done so many times before and cried into his fur; his body felt just like it always did but different without the Bear inside.
I've tried to hold onto the pain and enjoy the bittersweet flavor of his memory, childishly feeling like I didn't want to move on; I never wanted it to feel normal without Bear. It's been over a year, and the pain is still here, but my memories with him are so sweet that I'm beginning to understand how I can hold both and be okay.
I have moved on against my will.