Jasper Died on a Sunday

He died six months ago:
Sunday, June 10th, 2018.
He passed away at 4:27PM.
It was raining outside.

Tye was with him.
We were all with him. The whole family was together.
He was happy.
Tired, but happy. He was tired
and he just
went to sleep
one
last
time.

Our boy is gone and there's nothing for it.

I'm glad he was a part of our family.
I'm glad we had those last seven months--
good months--
with him:
months we weren't sure he would have,
months we weren't sure he would enjoy.
But he was happy.
We were happy.
I'll miss him forever.
I'm so happy that he was in our lives for so long.

Our boy is gone and there's nothing for it.

He was a great cat.
He was our tiny prince.
He gained a lot of different nicknames over the years.
He took a five-month road trip with us.
He loved to be shoulder-mounted.
He loved to eat cat grass
(even though it made him vomit).
He enjoyed crackers and bread for some reason.
He emitted a wide range of ear-piercing squeaks
(including what we dubbed "demando-voice").
He often had pointy or pokey feet.
He always liked napping in the bed with us
or curling up with Bayla or Tye.

Our boy is gone and there's nothing for it.

I still cry.
It's been months and I'll still,
every now and then,
see something around the house that reminds me of him,
and I won't be able to stop the tears.
Maybe it'll be like this for the rest of my life.
Maybe someday I'll be more happy than sad when I think of him.

Our boy is gone and there's nothing for it.

I miss so many things
and I don't want to forget.
I miss the way he'd come into the bathroom
when I was on the toilet
and rear up on his hind legs
to rub his face against my hands.
I'll miss his soft, chittering snores
and his low burbling purrs
and the way he'd twitch while he slept.
I used to wonder what he dreamt of,
why he often needed a wake-up snack.
For comfort?
Because he still remembered being feral,
being hungry,
not having a home?

I think we gave him a good home.
I hope we did our best to love him,
especially at the end.
I don't know.
I want to believe we did.
I should believe that.
Maybe later I will.
Maybe someday I'll know.

Today, all I know is this:

Our boy is gone and there's nothing for it.