Yesterday, two weeks to the day that I lost my grandmother, our sweet Monsignor Tub Tub Samson passed away. We had not seen the signs that were hinting at his ailing health, we had not understood that when his purring stopped it was because his heart was not long to follow.
And so yesterday we found our little guy lying at the top of the kitchen stairs, trying to make his way downstairs to tell us that it was his time. And though we rushed him to the emergency vet, it was too late, he was in irreversible heart failure.
It’s strange how much I failed to notice that was happening in my every day. How many times I took for granted the way he followed me room to room, pawing at my leg to pick him up. The way he would purr the second I reached down to put him on my lap while I worked. So many every day little things that warmed my heart and that were love made tangible.
So while losing my “Tubby” doesn’t have much to do with infertility or adoption, it reminds me of just how fragile love is, just how quickly it can slip away. We were blessed to have this amazing little spirit for seven years, yet we were robbed of seven more.
Now Samson warms my grandmother’s lap as she rocks, waiting for our future to unfold. And now we struggle to once again move forward, feeling the dead weight of loss on our hearts. Because right now his little paw imprints are baking in the oven, and that is the only piece of him we have left.