Yesterday I found out my cat Molly died. Deep down I had accepted that as a possibility when I left for Sweden since there were signs she was getting sick. She was about 15 years old and we had her since she was a kitten. There were only a few years that I can remember when we didn't have her so she was basically part of my entire life.
When I thought about how I would react if I did find out she died I was never sure about how I would feel exactly. If I would find out and just not react at first, then have it hit me hours later, as sometimes happens, or if I would be angry that I wasn't there. Neither, it hit right away and I just felt sad.
She died in her sleep, as good an end as I could think of. Still, it doesn't make it hurt less.
I know in order to grow up some things from your childhood have to end, I just never realized that a part of my childhood would have to die along the way.

Not my usual blog post, but it's important to me and I felt the least I could do was mention it.