Everyone says “It gets better with time.”

It doesn’t.

You just amass a bunch of other worries that take your time and you just focus on other things. But when the problems are solved and you have a bit of time to rest and remember… it all comes back.

Deep down in your heart you know that you’re just feeling sorry for yourself because you have lost a way to communicate. But knowing that does not help coping with that grief.

Perhaps the details are not so clear anymore. Perhaps there are new loves in your life – they did not substitute your lost one, they cannot, but they have brought you joy and laughter nonetheless.

It has been almost a week.

I expected to be a mess in the beginning. Surprisingly, I wasn’t. I held it together and could easily talk about my Liz with friends who comforted me. In all honesty, it felt just as if Liz was… on a vacation somewhere. That she would be back. That I’ll come home one day, open the door, and hear a familiar Meow of greeting.

She’s not coming back.

It hit me on Thursday. The weather was dreary – low clouds, somewhat rainy but more damp than anything. The summer colors were replaced with monochrome. There were new tasks at work and I was just stressed out. And then I saw one of numerous pictures of Liz in my phone.

She’s not coming back.

Some have asked me whether I would get another cat. I might, later. But it would be a different personality cat. It would not know me. It would have different habits.

Liz and I grew up together so we knew each other’s peculiarities.

She knew that she should not wake me early in the morning, but whenever mom was staying over, Liz would wake her up and ask for breakfast.

She worried when I was enjoying a soak in a bathtub and she would try to fish me out of there (at the same time, fearing water). Later, she just felt content to simply be with me in the bathroom when I was showering or soaking.

She loved us, she was a true part of the family… and she knew she was loved too.

I miss her so.

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