When I was around seven years old we adopted my cat, Sunshine, from a kitty rescue center and he was kind of like my birthday present, I even helped pick him out. I sat beside him in the car on the way home and comforted him on the ride, knowing from that day forward I’d be attached to his hip.

The next day my parents were having a cup of tea on the patio and I desperately wanted to join but there was no way I was leaving Sunshine inside by himself, so I picked him up and carried him to the door. I felt very strong, considering how big he was.

My mom said, “Maybe it’s not a good idea to bring him outside, at least not yet. If you let him go, he might not come back.”

To which I replied, “Don’t worry Mom, I’m holding him tight. I’m not gonna let go.”

Flashforward to present day. Right now it is 2:16 in the morning on a friday, and I’m not up this late because I was partying or having typical college kid fun. I’m sitting down at my laptop, underneath a heap of blankets with a heavy heart and unable to sleep. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to write this article until later, however, the time has come quicker than I thought it would.

I’m sitting down at my laptop at what is now 2:21 in the morning because my words are not coming easily to me, and I’m having to think about them more, staring blankly at my cursor flashing on the bright white screen. You see, earlier today when I was packing to come home for the weekend from college, Sunshine died without me knowing.

I got home kind of late at night and it wasn’t hard to tell something was wrong when my sister just looked at me oddly as I walked in. She looked at me as if she was saying something that I was supposed to understand without her actually using words. That’s when my mom got up from the couch, walking towards me and said, “we have some unfortunate news. Sunshine is no longer with us.”

Well, as you can imagine, this is not what I wanted to hear when I first walked through the door, my bag still in my hand. Although I can’t say I wasn’t expecting it because he was very sick, I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.

As everyone close to me knows, Sunshine is my baby. The amount of love I have for that cat is unreal. He’s been a part of my life for nearly twelve years now. From elementary school to college.

My room was the cat’s room. My pillow was his pillow. My bed was his. My clothes were all covered in his fur. I basically revolved around his schedule. I got up when he said it was time, and I went to sleep when he decided to settle down for the night on my feet and I was no longer able to move.

We’ve had good times, and honestly, not many bad times. Hundreds of pictures and even more memories are proof of that. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to be able to go back and play with him one more time, to watch him chase after and pounce on his favorite orange toy; or even to just pick him up and hold him, getting his fur on my clothes and face even though I’m allergic. He was worth the temporary inability to breathe through my nose.

I know he’s in a better place now and he’s not suffering any longer. He’s probably in cat heaven eating unlimited amounts of food and chasing all the toys and squirrels he could imagine, but I can’t help but flashing back to that time when I was seven talking to my mom outside. Tears are blurring my screen as I type at nearly three in the morning, I know that he’s not coming back and it’s time for me to let him go.

I’m sad now, and I haven’t learned anything new from this experience but that’s okay. If I have to say I’ve gained something from this unfortunate event, it’s that I realize it’s 100% okay to grieve without learning anything from it, as long as you hold those memories close to your heart.