Vader: Loving and losing a best friend

Six months ago, my eldest daughter lost a best friend, her cat, Vader. 

Having recently known and tasted the depths of grief myself, and knowing my daughter as I do,  I tried to help her process it. 

We camped out in her bedroom, just the two of us, and waited it out.  At first, I just held her through her first heart-wrenching wails.  

I held her tighter as her tears became words, and we talked and we snuggled, and we remembered, 

....and eventually we smiled again  at all the stories that came flooding back to form the threads that wove the fabric of  his life with us. 

We celebrated who he was for the time that he was with us,  and slowly my daughter began to grasp the concept of loss. 

It always hurts,  it stings...  

Sometimes it can hurt so much  that we forget to breathe, and it feels as though we will never again know the simplicity of happiness and just being again. 

But the waves of pain washing over us do begin to settle,  and it is then that we discover a peace in treasuring the joy of loving someone,  even for just a short time, ... and then finding a way to  hold the memories of that shared time close. 

Love is always worth the sharp pain of loss. 

And finally, as my Tianna healed,  I asked her to do something that has helped me so many times in dealing with my own grief.   I encouraged her to write her memories down,  just stream of thought, to jot them down freely, as the memories came, not worrying about syntax or grammar,  just pouring out her heart,  the heart of one who loved so deeply.  

Words bring comfort and closure to me.  And I knew they would do the same for her.

Several months later, Tianna shyly allowed me to read what she had written.  I hadn't wanted to ask her before, in the midst of her grief, as it had felt like an intrusion.  

She had printed it out and set it up on her shelf, along with his collar, and a few mementos of Vader.  It was like a little shrine to her beloved Vader.

Now she was ready,  she had begun to heal, and we read it together, once more laughing and smiling and remembering. 

And this time there was no pain, just the memory and the love. 

There was closure. 

Tianna has also allowed me to share her story below, the unedited story of the love she had for her Vader,  just as it all came tumbling out.

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26/07/2013

Vader: My baby kitten, my cat, my best friend

Yesterday I lost one of my closest friends. The one who was on my side no matter what. The one who I could always talk to, even though he couldn’t understand me. My cat. 

I lost my Vader.

I remember every time I was upset, or mad, or lonely, I would almost always end up crying in my room. And if Vader was in the house, he would find his way to my room and jump onto the bed beside me, and  wouldn’t leave until he knew I was okay.

I remember usually every day of the holidays, I would sleep in, waking up to find him at the front door, meowing to be let out. I would walk over, and stroke his head, and he would push his head into my hand for more. 

Then I would let him out, knowing I would see him later, at the back door meowing to be let in before I went to bed. I would struggle but eventually get the heavy door open, and he would stroll inside, and rub my legs while I pushed hard at the annoying, noisy door to close it. 

Then I would scoop him up into my arms and run him up the stairs, or we would race upstairs together. Once there, I would shake his food bowl, and he would pounce onto the counter and wait impatiently for me to get his food. He always thanked me with a purr, and then started to munch, but keeping his eye on me until I left the room or sat down.

I remember almost every time when I went outside for a scooter ride, or was walking the very far distance from the car-parking-area to the house, he would spot me from wherever he was (like in the flower beds digging his nails into a young tree, or in the construction site scaffoldings, or even if he was sprawled out in the middle of the road), and he would immediately stop what he was doing, and trot over to me. Then as I continued to walk, or scooter ride, he would run along next to us. 

Every time he would run too far ahead, then roll over on the floor, and groom (lick) his back until I caught up. And when I did, he would scratch my leg, asking for a pat.  

I would stretch my hand out and stroke him from his nose to his tail, and he would push his nose into my hand for more, until I started walking again, and we would repeat this cycle until we got home.

I remember whenever I felt like I needed some space because I was mad, I would take my scooter to the guest parking lot behind our house. Vader would see me, and stroll over. I would sit on the ledge of a parking space where there was no space for an actual car to park (this was our secret place). He would come over for attention, but then move away by about a meter, but stayed by my side. If I got up to move to the other side of the parking lot, he would immediately follow me and seek attention, but still keep his distance.

I remember whenever I would want a cuddle from him, I would find him in an odd place (like on top o the fridge, or in the washing basket). But I would scoop him into my arms and cuddle him. Then I would put him on the pillow next to me, but he would move to another area of the bed/couch, but still stay with me, because everything he did had to be “his idea”. 

I remember when we went on our exciting holiday cruise, Vader stayed at home, by himself. When we came home, there he was, at the door, waiting. And for a week or two after that he wouldn’t leave our side. Now there’s proof that an animal can love you.

He was a wanderer. He always wanted to explore and find new things.  

Unfortunately, that’s what killed him. 

He was exploring Oak Avenue, a mildly busy road with a few speed bumps. He was crossing the street when a car came. He was kind of funny about cars, like they didn’t scare him. He ran across the road in front of the car and got hit. He broke a few bones, but there was no blood.  

We think he died almost instantly, and that he didn’t suffer. 

Our neighbour was taking her kids to school when she noticed him, dead, on the sidewalk. She called her husband, who called his mum, who also lived down the road.  She came and told Dad at our house, and he took the kids to school without telling them about Vader. Mum and Dad didnt wake me for school that morning, they left me to sleep, knowing that I would want to be at home that day, to be with Vader until he was buried.  

Matthew, the neighbour, stayed with Vader on the side walk and waited for Dad to come back. Once he did, he and Matthew walked back to the house, with Vader, dead in Dads arms. Matthew told Dad about how much they had loved Vader too, even though Vader always attacked Matt’s cat, Charlie.  Turns out, Vader made friends with many of the neighbours.

I remember constantly worrying about Vader. I kind of knew his carelessness and curiosity would get the best of him. 

Even in the “yellow house” (our old house with most of my childhood memories). He would get stuck in the garage, and I would spend hours with him until I could get him out. 

In the “Conder Way” house in Mentone, his last home, we had a ledge in the upstairs kitchen, that if you looked down, you could see the front door. He would climb onto the ledge, and sprawl out. I would get so nervous, and try to get him away from that ledge.  

But he was always fine.  

Then he would climb on top of the fridge with all the recipe books. He would make such a mess up there. And you had to be so careful when you would walk past the fridge, because if you weren’t careful, you could be hit in the head by a recipe book being knocked off the top of the fridge by Vader; being sprawled all over the top, like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

I loved that about him.

I miss him.

I miss his scent.

I miss his big round eyes that turned into slits when he was in “hunter mode”.

I miss his funny, but innocent eye infections, and getting to worry about that for him.

I miss him digging his claws into my arms, marking me as his.

I miss seeing him, as we were in the car on the way to school, digging his claws into a young tree that looked like a whole lot of random twigs stuck together in winter.

I miss his different meows for his different moods. Most people couldn’t tell the difference, but I could. There was a “meow” for: when he wanted attention, when he wanted food, when he wanted to be let out, and even for when he wanted me to turn on the tap for him to drink from, etc. I miss that.

I miss him.

He was my Vader.

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