Our cat Bola had two kittens, Nec (short for Necia, “mischevious” ) and Fluffy. Bola died a few years ago. Nec died this past May.
I wasn’t here in Mexico when she died. Two days earlier, R gave me the heads up that she wasn’t doing well – she was previously diagnosed with feline leukemia. When I got the early morning call in California from R, I knew that Nec was dead.
R sent me pictures. Some pictures of her from before, when she was alive, and then some of her grave. I was at work, tearing up in front of my computer screen. But Nec’s death wasn’t 100% real for me just yet.
I’m now here in Mexico, visiting R for the first time since she died. Three months later, I’m mourning her in real time. It feels disjointed, off-key. Mourning in reverse.
It’s fantastic to see my husband, to spend some quality time with him here. Yes.
But as opposed to last time where I blew in for three days, then blew out, I’ve got some time and space now to look around. To mourn what I’ve missed. To note the changes. The plants are bigger, my husband’s hair is longer, and we now only put out three cat food dishes instead of four.
The illusion of time with my husband. The peculiar beauty of Nec’s grave.