Last Friday, I helped my soul cat cross the Rainbow Bridge.

That morning, I found him unable to move. My heart sank. We rushed to the vet, and they explained he had suffered a stroke. My wise beautiful boy was sixteen, he was a senior cat. The vet offered some options, but deep down I knew the kindest thing I could do was to let him go peacefully, rather than put him through treatments that might not changed the outcome.

He was my best friend, my constant companion, my joy. He stood by me through my cancer journey. He was my everything.

Now it’s been four days since he left, and the grief feels even heavier than it did when I made that heartbreaking decision. Even with my family around me, I feel so utterly alone. The house is too still, too quiet. Every chair and cushion in the house holds memories of him, and the emptiness feels unbearable. I cry all the time. I honestly don’t know how to move through this kind of pain. Losing him feels like losing a piece of myself.

His final moments on this earth were both sad and achingly beautiful. The vet medicated him so he would be calm and comfortable. He sat on my lap, his sweet head tucked into the nook of my arm, just like he always loved to do. I whispered to him, kissed him a hundred times, and held him tightly as he gently slipped away. It was peaceful. It was tender. But it also left me shattered.

I feel so traumatised by the goodbye. The sadness and grief are bigger than anything I could have imagined. Sometimes it feels like the pain might swallow me whole. If love alone could have saved him, he would have lived forever. If I could have followed him across that bridge, I would have.

My heart feels broken beyond repair. I wonder if I’ll ever stop crying, if I’ll ever feel whole again.

Read more stories of Loss and Love in “Pet Loss & Grief” book – coming soon