I have been doing well the past few days, starting to feel normal but also feeling Puccini’s absence sans despair. Puccini’s viewing and cremation were scheduled for this morning, and I did not expect much.
On the drive over at a red light, I saw a gray car with seafoam green rims and scant decals in the same hue drive by in the direction of the funeral home. Of course, the first thought I had was, “Puccini!”
Once inside the funeral home, I was led into the viewing room. I gasped and swooned as soon I saw Puccini in repose on the table. A tsunami of emotion came over me, taking me by surprise. Seeing her in the flesh once more…
As I wept, I sobbed that I would never see her like this again. I studied her every feature as best as I could. I stroked her lightly, afraid to disturb her. I breathed her in until I remembered that Puccini is still with me—just no longer in her earthly vessel.
Her body served her for twelve years. She had a lot of experiences. She lived a full life in the time that she had, and she had meaningful impact on my own existence.
Calm found its way back to me, and I was ready. I paid my respects to this feline form that served as my anchor for eleven years, but it was time. I waited out front while they clipped her whiskers and fur as keepsakes, and then I was brought back to the viewing room.
Curtains had been drawn open to reveal a window, from which I watched as her body was slid into the chamber, the door closed, and the oven turned on. The temperature rose quickly and then hovered around 1650 degrees. After several minutes, I departed the room.
As strange as it sounds, two well-known scenes of funeral pyres from myths played in my mind: Akhilleus and Patroklos and Luke and the redeemed Anakin. I considered it an honorable act.
I am growing accustomed to seeing and feeling Puccini in a form beyond the physical. That is mostly why I go for walks in the evening—to see signs from her, even though there are lots of reminders of her in the house. She spent the majority of her life as an indoor cat. As much as she would have liked to have gone outside, I could not risk it. I walk for her.
The past six weeks have been long yet short and heart-wrenching throughout.
Now, I am at peace.
