Dads and Cat

Sunday, August 20.

As of today, I've been home from my Michigan trip as long as I was away. However, Michigan feels like years ago.

My trip was bittersweet for reasons I'm still processing. Coming home was wonderful with bittersweet edges. 

Finn is still holding on and, while he isn't in pain, it is obvious the end is closing in on him. Last night, I lay on the floor near him. I'd open my eyes once in a while to find out he'd moved--his head would be facing a different direction, or he would have managed to be across the room. At one point, I woke to find me cupping his head, which he'd had to have strategically done because I was zonked and last I'd seen him, he was under the bed. Another time I woke to find his paw on top of my hand. Five minutes later, I watched that same paw extend past his head and propel himself out of my reach. This morning I woke to him vomiting. My heart is breaking. 

My dying cat is bringing up other memories. Namely what my father went through in his last few months of life. I have a tremendous amount of guilt for leaving him two months before he passed. I know that isn't sane/reasonable/logically. I know I had blessings from my father and brother to move to Texas. I know I had 100 percent blessing from Marty to stay in Phoenix with Dad, even though my family needed me. 

Which brings me to Bonus Dad and Michigan... 

Nope. Never mind. Bonus Dad, for the record, is fine. It is me who isn't. I'm still processing this trip. And maybe if I wasn't processing my guilt and my own father's passing, I would have had a better time.