You’ve been in the hospital the past three days, fighting for your life. I can’t believe how different it feels not having you here…shadowing me…pawing at me…meowing at me. No matter where I went, you always followed…you were always there.
I’m racked with guilt thinking that I could have taken you in sooner, that it could have made a difference, that you might have had a better prognosis if I had. I keep thinking that if I didn’t leave you alone the past weekend, I would have seen all the signs. Most of all, I feel guilty that I spent so much time away from you–traveling, working, doing things that didn’t matter or weren’t important, knowing you’d always be waiting for me when I returned home.
I hate thinking of you alone and scared in the hospital. All I want to do is bring you home and hold you, and make you feel better. I’m sick to my stomach knowing that all I can do is hope for the best. Hoping and waiting never seems like it’s enough.
I can’t imagine losing you, Sabine. It seems unfair in so many ways. I can’t imagine not having you around. It seems unbearable. I keep thinking that you’ll get better and we’ll go on with our lives, and have more time together.
Sabine, I’m sorry for yelling at you. For getting annoyed when you meowed too much. For always pushing you away when you pushed your face into mine while I was working. I’m sorry I locked you in the basement to teach you a lesson. I’m sorry for the times I ignored you when you tried to get my attention. I’m sorry for not spending more weekends with you. I didn’t deserve you, baby. I’m so sorry I failed you.
Whatever happens, I want you to know that you were such an unexpected gift, and one of the few blessings I’ve had in my life. You were my angel. A God-send. You were with me right before my dad died, you kept me company when I felt so alone and so sad, and when I felt like nobody understood. You are such a special baby, the sweetest, gentlest little girl I’ve ever known, and if I didn’t have you in my life, I would have been so lost the past four years.
I wonder if, now that Sly and I are married, and now that Sly is taking care of me, if this is God’s way of releasing you from your duty. I’m not ready to say goodbye, Sabine. I love you too much.
Whatever time we have left together, I will love you more than enough for the years we’ll never get. I’ll never leave your side, and never give up on you. We’ll watch cooking shows together. We’ll watch the squirrels outside. We’ll watch Daddy make dinner. I’ll hold you as close as you let me, which probably means you’ll sleep on my shoulder, like you have been doing the past few days before you went to the hospital.
Sabine, my sweet, sweet little girl, I love you. Please keep fighting.