My mother passed away in August. I was in Iraq when I got the phone
call. System failure and some other medical terms were being thrown
around. I didn't really know what was going on, hours pass and I'm on a
helicopter out of Iraq.
I'm in Pittsburgh now, watching my mother
breath her last breaths. She was my only living parent, I'm an orphan
now. There is a hole in my heart, like something is missing and can
never be replaced.
Days pass, my wife and I are in a pet store
looking at the animals, she tells me that we're not leaving without a cat. I
comply, we name him Ender after one of our favorite books.
He is
orange "an American Short Hair" the sales receipt states. He is small,
new to this world and pure. His hair is slick and orange and when he
suns himself you can almost smell the sunlight bouncing off of his coat.
Weeks
pass, he is there when I miss my mother. When the loneliness hits, he's
there to distract me, to
cheer me up, to nibble on my finger or curl up
beside me for attention, he is there.
Months pass, I'm looking at
the emails my mother sent to me while I was in Iraq. I find a musical
birthday card she sent to me on my birthday. It's an American Short Hair
dancing around with a guitar.
I hear purring now, and it is near.