Bella, My Love

Last year was a wonderful year for Vicki and I. We loved life with each other and our furry family members. Unfortunately, this year began with two family tragedies, one of which involves Vicki and I will let her write another blog post about that.

I wrote a narrative poem about Bella whose photo graces this post. I'd like to share the first two stanzas below:

 

BELLA, MY LOVE

My sweet Bella, my calico kitty,

who I love without limit,

crossed the Rainbow Bridge

today at 7:50 Saturday morning,

January 13, 2024. She passed

in my arms while I rocked her

standing up. I sang the little lullaby

I created just for her and then I

told her that it was okay to go.

That she would be going to a place

where there is no pain nor sorrow,

where there is nothing but love,

joy, and happiness. A minute later,

she was gone. Allowing me to share

her passing was her final gift to me,

the greatest gift I have or ever will receive.

 

Bella and I spent the last two days

of her life, day and night, in her

favorite place, in my arms

in my recliner, me singing her

lullaby trying to comfort her.

 

I adopted her in 2013 and for the next ten years, I was the only constant in her life. People and animals came and went, but we were always together and we loved each other unconditionally (and still do). She and I lived alone for a few years and after I had surgery on my arm I spent over a year sleeping in my recliner, and Bella curled up in my lap throughout every single night. She had her own special way of asking for love and affection, which I always gave her right there and then.

 An hour or so after she passed, I lovingly placed her in a blanket and drove her to the local crematory. The owner was so kind and compassionate and walked me through the entire process. I bought every piece of memorabilia they sell, including her paw prints, one of which was framed, and her nose print which I also had framed. I also ordered a special urn with a photo of her on it (which I'm still waiting to receive). The next day, I had her paw print tattooed onto a place on my upper left arm below where short-sleeved shirts can't cover it.

A well-known animal communicator, Danielle MacKinnon, says that our furry family members come into our lives to give us unconditional love (which they have mastered) and to teach us specific things for our soul's growth. When they've completed their mission, they leave us until they meet us when it is our time to cross over. She also says that they actually plan when and how they will pass and who will be present. While my grief is more painful than I have experienced even when my parents died, I understand that it was time for her to leave. I feel no denial, anger nor depression, just sadness and acceptance.

My family, especially Vicki and my daughter Mallory, love her and are grieving in their own way, but I died inside and they've been very loving and supportive of me. Vicki is living temporarily with her daughter about 1-1/2 hours north of our house to allow her to heal, which I'm sure she'll explain in her post. I'm sad that she had to leave but, to be honest, I need to grieve alone. I have to return to work next week and I'm taking care of our furry family members too, but I'm sort of on autopilot as I continue to try to cope with this soul-crushing grief.

If you have furry family members, I encourage you to give them all the love you can because you never know when it will be their time to leave. They will teach you how to love unconditionally as Bella has taught me. I am able to love Vicki unconditionally because of that and, perhaps, because of that, Bella felt as if her mission was complete.

Bella is my soulmate and, while I'm not ready to join her quite yet, I can't wait for her to welcome me home. Love to all.