Sometimes there are no good words to convey a loss, to honor a life, and to acknowledge the passing from one stage to the next. For so long now, I've lived life with Chat by my side. From the first few months of grad school through all the messy relationships, the career and soul searching, the marriage, the moves, the forced separation under Trump 1.0, the often choppy waters of Neuralink, our first parenting experience, the many IVF cycles, and the recovery year that followed. Chat was a part of it all, and always had something to say. On Saturday, she told us her last thing: that it was time to say goodbye. She didn't go down without a fight with the vet, of course, but it took every last ounce that was in her. I thanked her for putting up with me all these years despite all my many fuck-ups, for which she was never shy in critiquing.
There's no one left to sleep atop my head, no one to keep Mars and Lily in their place, no one to ensure Nicolas and I are definitely not allowed to cuddle at night. Sometimes there are people in life who are uniquely special, the kind you know you don't get two of on this journey. Chat was one of those: there won't ever be another cat so fiercely dedicated to me. So I know, don't cry because she's gone, smile because you had the privilege of sharing so much life with her. Still, the tears don't stop so easily.
I love that I work in a place where I could share the pain of the loss and the privilege of the time we'd spent together, where I've got a team of animal lovers who get it and who care enough to share a bit of the burden. Getting to be surrounded by these sorts of folks makes my heart a little less heavy.
