Her name was Tia…

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And she left us living about 2 hours ago.  😦

 

I knew last night… at her 10pm feed, I realised she would leave.  And it made it even worse, as this afternoon, for the first time, I felt real hope.

This afternoon she did pushy paws!  She went on her mothers boob, and for a few minutes, she was in heaven right here.  I remember thinking afterwards, having seen her so happy, suckling from her mother like the others, purring, and pushing her tiny little paws up and down… that even if she was to leave soon, maybe it was all worth it just for those few minutes of bliss.

 

I hope it was worth it.  I truly do.  She had less than a week.  Less than a week, and a moment of bliss.

 

Pie’s been great.  When I realised she was fading last night, I simply started howling.  Sitting there with tiny little Tia in my hand, knowing that it suddenly wouldn’t matter how hard I try, she wasn’t gonna stay.  And my Monkey-Pie came and snuggled me, rubbing my tears away with her face.

 

And still I hoped.  Even though I knew Tia was now going with the flow, instead of fighting the tide.  I’m crying, but I already did my grieving in those hours between 10pm and 4am.

 

She had her last feed at 2am… both me and her knew it was the last supper, so kept it short, and instead, I laid down on the bed, with little Tia on top of my chest, snuggled up warm under my PJs, and cupping my hand around her.

Around 3am she started purring, and doing pushypaws against my fingertips.  Then we just laid there, me softly weeping, and her drifting further and further away.

 

The pic above was taken two days ago (the brown “cord” is just umbilical cord, that was still stuck on one of the babies).  You can see how incredibly tiny she was compared to the others.  Yes, the beautiful, but oh so tiny girl to the left in the image was born on the same day as the rest of them.

 

Sweet dreams, Tia.  I know it’s not much – but you were loved.  May you grow big and strong where you are now.

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And so the plane took off…

Saturday my other half’s mother passed on.

But in reality his mother had already been gone for quite a while… she had Alzheimers, and there’s been a few stages, which is where the plane comes in.

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Nearly  decade ago it started, with confusion… days were gone, then weeks, months, and years… but his mother was still his mother now and then, and this is when I think of the airport.

She’d gone to start on her destination.  Entered the airport and bought a ticket.  As her plane wasn’t leaving for a while, she would now and then exit the airport, and everyone she knew, was still someone she knew and loved.

But then she passed passport control.  You can’t come back after passport control.  It would still be years before she headed for the departure lounge.  She could be seen though the glass wall, but her world was miles apart from everyone elses.

She’d entered the past.  She was young, in-love with her handsome young husband, who was working out at sea, and she had a couple of young children.  Her biggest worry during these years was that she wanted to find some part time work to help with the household expense.

Her grown up children not recognised, as behind passport control, three of them hadn’t even been born yet, let alone being adults with children and grandchildren themselves.  Their mother gone, instead they were left with a young lady, in an elderly lady’s body.

And so the years passed, with her slowly heading towards the departure lounge.

She reached the lounge last year.  The mother long gone, and now the young lady gone too.

And a week ago she’d checked in.  Doctors said a week.  A week it was.

Saturday she finally walked through the departure gates and boarded the plane.  I hope her husband and her second eldest child was there waiting for her in first class.

 

Safe journey, Ana.  I’m sorry you were stuck in the airport for so long… but I’m glad you found a safe haven, decades in the past.  It’s hard for us all stuck here outside the airport, as although you left us a long time ago, we’re still grieving.

Never to see her pawprint again…

One year the snow came either way too soon, or way too late.  Either way, neither the kittes nor the flowers were too impressed.

It’s been over a year since my feline baby passed… but not a day goes by where I don’t think of her.  The difference is that I can now, compared to the months after her death, speak of her with a smile on my face.  Still… to find a picture of her pawprint in the snow broke my heart once more… as it’s something I will never see again.

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Done for the Weekly Photo Challenge:  Threes – http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/21/weekly-photo-challenge-threes/

This post was a good learning experience, as I learnt how to use galleries.  Handy!