Dear Eileen,

I am missing you so much today. The last couple of weeks, really. I don't know why it suddenly seems harder again.

It's been a hard year, really. I've been sick a lot. I had pneumonia last winter and almost died. Did you know I was that sick? Were you watching me? When I finally got out of the hospital, I was so weak I could hardly walk. I guess three weeks of lying in bed will do that to you. At first I couldn't even get up off the couch without help. Your daddy had to go to work and I was home alone all day stuck on the couch. Your sister Cayenne kept me good company. She stayed on the arm of the couch beside me all day, which is unusual for her, you know. I guess she knew I needed her. I know if you would have been here, you would have been right beside me. I wish you could have been.

I just had to have surgery to have my gall bladder taken out. I feel much better now. Physically better, anyway. You would have missed me being in the hospital all this time. You never liked it when I had to be away from home. The other cats don't seem to mind as much. But they aren't mine they way you were.

You were always right there beside me when I was not feeling well. I don't know how I would have made it through some of the tough times in my life without you. I don't know how I'm making it now.

I can see your urn from where I sit now. It's dusty. I haven't been cleaning it. Lately it hurts to much to go near it. You don't mind if I don't dust it, do you? I don't mean to be disrespectful. It just hurts.

It's been over three years and sometimes I think I should be pretty much over you by now. But I'm not. I don't cry every day anymore, but I cry often. I think of you often. I wish I could kiss your soft little belly. I wish I could pet the soft furr behind your little ears. Actually, your ears weren't so little. They were kind of big. They were cute that way, you know.

I was looking at pictures today and saw the one of you in the sink. You always loved to play in the sink. You loved to drink water out of the faucet. None of the other cats do that.

Larry brought home a mouse the other night and it made me think of you. You loved bringing your mice in the house. Daddy took it away from him and set it free outside, like he used to do with you.

Indigo is still Indigo. Rotten as ever. Gets into stuff a lot. Wakes me up in the middle of the night when she wants to go outside.

Cayenne is doing good, I guess. I worry because she's getting older. She's my last cat, you know. You and Cayenne were mine. Indigo and Larry are really Daddy's. I won't get another cat. When Cayenne's gone, I'll kind of be alone. I tell her all the time how much I love her. I think she missed you for a long time but I think she's OK now.

My heart still breaks for you. I love you, sweet girl.

Mommy

beautiful

Eileen must be so proud of you, you have loved her so well and continue to do so in your own beautiful way.