Forever

Saturday, February 23, was a beautiful winter day. The sun shone, skies were deep blue and ice on every branch glistened. It was a long, long day, but I couldn't bear for it to end.
Our vet relayed the news to me- "It isn't good news", she said. Jessie's labs came back showing that he had been exposed to the feline coronavirus- that is all the results can tell. However, given his clinical presentation, he most assuredly had active FIP. He would progressively worsen and his 5 cat siblings were at risk of exposure.
I got his crate and gathered him from where he sat near the gate in the hallway. He was so small, and I could feel his ribs. Jim and I held him together, then we gently put him in the crate. Birdy and I took him to the vet, where they were waiting for us, and we went to the comfort room. Shortly after our arrival a tech came in and took Jessie to put a catheter in his leg. He was back in a few minutes, growling, but I laid him in his blanket on my lap and petted his head and he calmed down. They had turned the overhead lights on and I turned them off; they hurt his eyes. Dr. Blair joined us within a few minutes. She gave him a tiny amount- 0.1 ml- of a sedative, and in a few seconds he yawned twice and laid his head in my lap. She gave him the second med and within a few seconds he was gone. After they left us alone, I held him and told him how sorry I was- sorry for so many things: that he had suffered so much in his short life; that we couldn't fix him; that we had so little time to love him. I smelled the fur on his head-it smelled so good- and stroked his paws. They said that I could stay as long as I wanted. Part of me would have never left, but a bigger part knew that Jessie was gone and that he didn't need me any more. I gently put him on the couch wrapped in his little blanket, smelled his fur one more time, and left him.
For the rest of the day, a giant emptiness filled my heart. I found a blanket in the crate in the basement that he had ridden home from Virginia on, and held it to my heart. It was comforting in a small way. The minutes of the day clicked slowly past. I wanted the day to end, but I didn't. It was his last day with us.
Jim and I have survived the weekend, our thoughts never far from our little buddy. Jim was a comfort to me in a way no one else could be. We both had loved Jessie so much and only we could talk about his life with us and how much his loss meant. In the past 24 hours, it has become important to me that Jessie's legacy be a positive one, and have some specific ideas in mind. For now, this gives me something positive to focus on.
This morning, after just waking, my heart felt heavy, but there was also a sense of groundedness and something like peace. I told Jim; he said, "It's from our little buddy". I suddenly had a visual image of Jessie laying curled and purring on my heart. Being a kitten, I know he won't stay put there for long periods and I will feel his loss. But I know he will come back and Jim and I will hold him gently and lovingly in our hearts always.