Six years ago today, 7/23/2016, Mom, my best friend, the ultimate cat lady, protector and defender of the strays and vagabonds of the world’s streets, died at 4:15 a.m., ending her 17-year course of dementia. I had been sitting with her at the nursing home since 8:00 a.m. on the 22nd, and she was at “we’re down to the last minutes” status all that time, but with typical Mom grit and determination, she lasted 20 hours. It is utterly amazing how long somebody can go without breathing. The whole day her breathing would stop, long pauses that I took to timing. It was about a minute. Then suddenly start up again, breathe for a bit, then stop. She was unconscious, but I do think she knew I was there on some level. I was holding her hand, and at one point early on the 22nd, I started to let go so that I could pull a chair over to her bedside for myself, and she tightened up her grip on my fingers.
So at 4:15 it was over, ending with a song (“Precious Lord, Take My Hand” was the last one) and a prayer. I had been singing off and on all day; one of my own wishes was to be able to be there at the moment and to sing her to sleep, as she so often had done for us in childhood. I had just finished right then singing Precious Lord, and I prayed aloud, “Lord, if it is your will, release her right now.” She died on the last word, now. After 20 hours of wondering (both me and nurses wondering) if she had already died several seconds ago or was still alive, I knew absolutely the very second she left. Her spirit brushed against mine in passing, and she was gone.
So it was about 30 minutes later, following final farewells on my part and saying goodbye to the staff, who were wonderful at that place, that I was leaving the nursing home. It was still dark. As I stepped up to the door, which had a window in it, I saw something outside several feet away at the end of the path off the sidewalk to the door. A street cat, sitting there at absolute, respectful attention, wrapped in his tail as if he, too, had been keeping vigil. I opened the door and slipped outside, and the cat sat there about 10 feet away. We looked at each other for a moment, and then he stood, gave a casual feline stretch, and ambled off unhurriedly. I managed to gather my sleep-deprived wits enough to grab my cell phone and get a shot at the end as he walked off.
A street cat, come to pay tribute to their champion. What an absolutely perfectly appropriate moment.
