Thursday, March 24, 2011

Max memory

I don't think a day goes by where I don't think about my sweet Max.  It is the time of year where I really start to feel the anniversary of his death approach, even though it is still over two months out. May 9th will mark two years.

While walking home yesterday I remembered how Max loved to be held in my arms. He always asked to be held. Whenever I was working at the computer he wanted to be asleep in my arms. It would only be a few minutes later that he would roll over, leaving me with a sleeping upsidedown big bundle of fur in my arms.

As he slept I would gaze at his beautiful sleeping face and tears of joy and contentment would wash over me. Even though this ritual played out often, I knew it would not last forever, so I made sure to be fully present to him each time. I marveled at his complete trust in me. I think he may have trusted me more than I did.

My ability to get my work done slowed. I figured out how to prop one arm on the desk so I could hold him for hours. I eventually learned to put a soft cloth on the desk to cushion my arm. I learned how to use the onscreen keyboard for typing, which was incredibly slow.

Especially after Max was diagnosed with chronic renal failure, I didn't care how much Max upsidedown in my arms snuggles slowed down my ability to get work done, work would always be there, Max would not. Here it is 22 months past his death and my heart aches to hold him just one more time.

The big hole in my heart that belongs to Max continues to hurt. I almost kind of like the pain now, it makes me feel closer to my buddy.


  1. Lots of hugs and universal Light to you.

    My Chumley has been gone for over 4 years now and while I think of him daily, I don't miss him desperately anymore. Time has eased that.

    But Annie's been gone for only 36 days and I feel her loss keenly, especially because I think we (the vet and I) either did something wrong or didn't do enough...something. I don't know. I just feel she "shouldn't" be dead, though of course there are no "shoulds," and life is just life.

    So I understand the sense of loss you still experience with Max.

    I don't think our hearts ever really heal, the ache just dulls in time. I've posted this a few times recently, on various blogs, but I once read something to the effect that all the holes in our hearts are to let the Light shine through.

    -Kim (mom to Nicki and Derry) at Fuzzy Tales

  2. I know what you mean. Even the sadness is comforting sometimes. It means you haven't forgotten him and his memories are fresh and real. Just remember how lucky he was to have been loved for so long. He really was a fortunate cat to have you. Hugs, Deb=^..^=x5


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