Today I accepted that I am the grown up.

I have fought that since February 7th when I found my mom unresponsive on her couch.


It used to be when things were awful, my parents shielded me from it. Mom and the veterinarian did their part before Dad and the shovel arrived in the backyard.

Today Mom called me that Tavish was in the bathroom and she wasn’t sure she was alive, but she WAS in the way of where she needed to brush her teeth.

I made my way over, indeed, 17 year old tiny Tavish had sprawled out on the floor and breathed her last. She was cold and solid. I picked her up, soaking my hand in the urine that was under her and in her fur. I carried her to the porch and set her down gently. I cleaned the floor.

I dug the hole in the back, where Dad last dug. Literally. My shovel hit the casket of the last cat he buried for me. I stood there in the sunshine and accepted that I was the adult now. I quit fighting it and just accepted.

I finished the hole. Got scissors that belonged to my Grandma and cut a patch of fur from my familiar, my partner in crime. Wrapped her in a black plastic bag, carried her to the hole and buried my cat.

Arizona, Missouri, Minnesota, Kentucky, Missouri. Four states, two marriages, five homes, one peaceful, tearful, goodbye.

Leaving behind one girl, all grown up.