I notice myself slowing a bit more each day. At 94, these changes aren’t unexpected or surprising. Still, nothing unsettled me like leaving my little house last week — the place I called home for over sixty years.
They mentioned I seemed confused in the ambulance. Perhaps they’re right. My strongest memory is reaching for Whiskers.
My old tabby cat has been by my side for almost twenty years now. My husband brought him home before he passed, back when Whiskers was still tiny enough to fit into one of my hands. Ever since, every night he’s curled up next to me, offering silent companionship.
Arriving at the hospital, I found it cold and unfamiliar. I asked several times if anyone was feeding Whiskers, but I sensed the nurses didn’t really grasp what I meant.
People seldom do, unless they have loved — and lost.
Later, I learned Whiskers hadn’t eaten since I’d gone. My granddaughter told me he spent two days lying on my cardigan, the one I made years ago. He barely stirred, listening for my return.
I was fading too, not from the illness, but because rest never came easily without his purring near me.
My dear granddaughter seemed to sense this.
She wrapped Whiskers in my favorite shawl and brought him to see me.
I’ll remember the moment she set him on my blanket. Though the hospital air was filled with antiseptic and the noise of machines, all I felt was his familiar warmth against me.
Raising his tired head, he nudged my face with his nose.
My hands trembled as I stroked his fur, a motion I’d made countless times.
“Hello, my darling boy,” I whispered. “You waited… you always waited.”
He settled against my chest, just as he did so many winter evenings when I read or listened to the radio.
A passing nurse noticed us but didn’t say anything.
She understood: two souls sharing comfort, together again.
As night came, Whiskers’ purring softened. My breathing did too.
We drifted into sleep the same way we had for nearly twenty years —
side by side, heart to heart.
And though I don’t know what comes next, I know this:
No one is ever truly alone when they are loved.
Not even at the end.
