Isla

Two weeks ago today, on Thursday 18th August, my grandmother passed away.
It was peaceful and quiet and she wasn't in pain.
She finally got to go home to her husband.
After twenty years apart, I'm sure she was happy to see him.

I walked into the room complaining about how a nurse had mistaken me for a mother of two blonde children, of course I was doing that, but my aunt told me once I'd stopped talking.
Three words and they changed everything.
'Nanny's passed away.'

My auntie Sandra (nanny's sister) was closest to me. She told me to kiss her on the cheek but I couldn't. I just shook my head and put my hand over my mouth and cried.
It didn't last long. I cried for less than a minute.
When I had composed myself, I moved closer to nanny and kissed her forehead before sighing with relief.
Her suffering was over, finally.

I'd said my official 'Goodbye' to her the day before.
She was mostly out of it thanks to the cocktail of drugs they'd put her on to take away any pain in her last few days but she was, apparently, able to hear things.
Nanny told me a hundred times over that she wanted me to find a good man, marry him and have kids.
That's all she ever wanted for me.
I know her views were old fashioned but those were the things in her life that gave her the most happiness and she wanted that for me too.
She loved being married. She loved her husband and raising her children and, then, raising me.
I might not be ready for marriage and kids yet but I know that, when I do, she'll be watching over us all.
I promised her I'd find him and that I'd love him forever - the same way she loved my granddad.
I promised I'd tell our kids all about the strong, kind, wonderful woman who raised me.
She can't truly die until all of our stories about her are finished being told.
With that knowledge, I know it will be a long time before she's really gone forever.

I spent as much time with her as possible when I was younger. Every weekend, every weekday after school... If anyone was ever wondering where I was, you could be sure it was with her.
She was my first best friend, until I met Jane in 2000, and she was my hero.
We had so many traditions, nanny and I...
My favourite was always our trip to Jenners at Christmas. We'd go look at all the toys downstairs and then we'd go see the giant Christmas tree.
To a five year old, there wasn't anything more magical than that.
She loved Christmas. Every year, our house would be sparkling from all the different decorations. She would cook Christmas dinner and I would be amazed at how one person can make a season so magical and perfect.
She also gave me a belief in fairies.
Every year, at Christmas, I would wake up in the morning of Christmas Eve and find a beautiful princess dress hanging on the door next to mine. Nanny always told me the fairies had left it for me and I believed her with everything I had.
Not all of our traditions were at Christmas though.
Another of my favourites is that, whenever I was ill or off from school, she would make 'Make You Well Soup' - that was my childish name for it (I was probably only about three when I started calling it that). Even when I got sent home from school, my mum would drop me off with nanny and she'd have my pajamas wrapped around a hot water bottle in my bed and some soup ready for me.
She even got me a dog - Benji.
Technically, we had Annie first but she had to be re-homed as she was a Greyhound and too much for my gran to handle.
Benji was perfect. He was tiny and adorable and perfect when we first got him.
It was love at first sight with us.
I'm so grateful we got to grow up together because he was the greatest, silliest, most stupidly sweet dog anyone could ever have had.
But, unfortunately, he had to get re-homed too when my gran got even more unwell.
After that, we got Oscar.
I've said a million and one things about him so I don't think I need to expand on that but he was just as special as Benji.

The last thing I ever said to her, even a week on when I saw her in the funeral home (she looked nothing like herself. It was horrible), was 'Goodnight, nanny. I'll see you soon. I love you'
When I was younger, I always used to make her say those three words before I went to sleep.
I know it's morbid but, just in case anything ever happened, I wanted to make sure those were our final words to each other.

Reality isn't always that kind though. I can't remember her last words to me.
I know the jist of them but I don't know them exactly.
She was having a good day, her last good day before she died, and I was going on a work night out. I walked out the door and she called me back in. So I went inside and she was warning me to be careful as people can put things in your drink, etcetera. I laughed and nodded and reminded her that I'm a big girl.
After that, it's hazy.

The day before she died, I told her not to keep holding on for me. I'd be fine. She could let go now.
Not even 24 hours to that conversation and she was gone.

These last two weeks have been really strange.
I haven't cried much. I don't know why, especially seeing as I barely stopped crying to breathe after Oscar died.
Nanny was the strongest women I've ever known.
Maybe she's watching over me and helping me to be strong too.

I started college this week and I'm heading to St Andrews tomorrow for a new adventure.
Nanny's gone and, while it breaks my heart that she wont ever get to meet the man I marry or our kids, I know she'll be with us regardless.
It's all she wanted for me and I'll get it eventually.
So, when I do, she'll become my family's own, personal Guardian Angel.
If you believe in those sorts of things.
I'm not sure if I do or not but it's a nice thought.

I miss her so much but I'm so glad she's not in pain anymore.

Goodnight, nanny. I love you.
Jezebel
xoxo

Dear Oscar

Hey honey,
Well, it's been a week since you died and not much has happened.
I've been sad since you left.
I've cried so much I'm surprised I have any tears in me left to fall.
Yet, still, they come.

I've gotten used to missing you.
I no longer burst into tears when I see your missing bowls or litter tray.
I don't cry every time I realize the last time I saw you was the last time.
I'm not mad at the world for taking you.

When we first got you, I was so angry at my gran.
Our dog had been re-homed mere months earlier and I thought we were replacing him.
Now, I realize that, while saying 'Goodbye' to him was painful, we couldn't have met you if we hadn't.

I wasn't very nice to you at the beginning and I would always, jokingly, moan about you to my friends - some of whom thought I hated you because of it.
I was constantly trying to reaffirm the fact that I am a dog person.
It's only now that I realize I was an Oscar person too.

Missing you comes in waves.
I'll be fine for a while and then, suddenly, I'll think I hear you at the window or I'll come through the door and shout your name. Only to remember there's no one there to hear me.
Yesterday, I was food shopping and I went down the pet food isle on auto-pilot. When I remembered you were gone, I broke down in tears in the middle of the store.

I didn't tell you 'I love you' enough.
You were a great cat and I didn't tell you that much. The last time we saw each other, I kissed your head and told you I loved you in broken whispers until you slipped away from me.
I hope you knew. I hope you know, now, that I loved you more than most things in this world.

I still carry your collar wherever I go.
I don't know why. It won't bring you back. I guess it makes me feel close to you.
Certain items have found their way into my bedroom.
Your water bowl, your brush, your collar (of course)...

You deserved more time than you got, Oscar.
You were nine years old. That's not an age to die at.
We only had you for three years but, in that short a time, you changed our lives for the better.
You were funny, annoying, boring, cute and mine.

The thing about you though is that even the boring or annoying bits weren't bad.
I'm never going to forget when I'd come through the door after a few hours or days away from home and you'd walk out of my bedroom at the sound of your name, only to pause and turn your head to glare at me. I'd ask my gran about you afterwards and she'd tell me you'd been sleeping on my bed the whole time.
I knew you missed me, Oscar. Even if you were prideful.

As for me, whenever I was gone (even just for a night), I'd text my gran about you.
'How's Oscar', 'What's my baby doing', 'Has he gone into my room yet'
I know you loved me. Even if you were really subtle about it.

I hope I never forget my favourite moments.
You waking my up at 5AM because you wanted food.
When you would come into my room and moan at me until I made space in the bed for you to sit and be petted.
The sight of you curled up at the end of my bed.
The fact that you got clingier whenever my gran went into hospital.

What am I going to do now, Oscar?
Who's going to walk into the bathroom and sit glaring at me whenever I'm singing too loudly in the shower?
Who am I going to lean on when my gran's in the hospital and I'm all alone?

I don't know.
I have great friends who are helping me through losing you.
I guess I can go to them.

I just want to thank you.
You were a great companion to me for three years and I love you so much.
I don't know if you're still here with me or if there's a God up there who's looking after you but, whatever's happening, please don't forget that I love and miss you.
If you see me crying, don't worry. I just wish you were here.
I'm glad you're not in pain anymore. I'm sorry I didn't do more to save you.

I'll be up soon, okay?
I won't be long.
You're not alone.

'Till then, Sleeping Beauty, sleep on...'

I guess it's time for me to finish this 'letter', huh?
You'd be sleeping the whole time I was writing this if you were here.
If you were here though, I wouldn't have to write this.

I need to say 'Goodbye' to you.
It'll be a long time before I stop grieving you but I should say that, at least.
It's been a week since you died and I still miss you just as much as the first day.
'I loved you then, I love you still.
In my heart, you hold a place that no one could ever fill.
It broke my heart to lose you but you didn't go alone.
Because part of us went with you the day God took you home'

Goodbye Oscar. Bobo, Bobo's meme, Poquito, Mosquito, Shmeme, Button, Babushka, Honey, Momo, Ozmoz, Ozmeme, Mozmeme, Oz...
Never forget that I love you.
Rest In Peace.

Love, Mummy

P.S. I hope you're eating endless amounts of food now that you have healthy gums!
Enjoy chasing those pigeons!

Just Enough

I always wanted a cat. 

When I was younger, I'd bug my mum constantly about letting me get one and I never forgot it. 

As I grew up, I got Barbie houses and dogs and even a Fur-Real cat! 

And still, every year, the word 'cat' went on my Christmas list. 

I never got one. 

I loved my dogs though and my Lhasa Apso, Benji, was the love of my life.

He was a puppy when we got him and we grew up together. 

His little face and never ending excitement whenever I walked through the door or called his name are memories I will treasure forever. 

In 2012, we lost him as he had to be rehomed due to my gran's illness.

Then came mice. 

My gran's solution to that problem was to get Oscar. 

Oscar was about six years old when we got him. A rescue cat brought in by drunk people who, instantly, purred his way into our hearts when we met the big furball.

I'll never forget the day I met him.

I walked into the house, already ranting to my gran about something while I ditched my keys. When I walked into the living room, I saw this cat staring at me. 

He was big and brown with a white tummy and paws and he was the most beautiful cat I'd ever seen.

I sat down on the chair in the living room and he sat in front of me. 

I meowed at him and he did the same back. 

He never shut up after that. 

In the years that followed my childhood, my wish of getting a cat slowly evaporated as I grew into a dog person. 

Years later, here I was faced with this thing I used to pray I'd get.

I named him Oscar, after Oscar Wilde and Oscar de la Renta, and I fell in love with him. 

It was slow, at first, but his non-stop meowing and constant whining to get into the bathroom so he could drink from the tap (his favourite past time other than sleep) melted my dog-loving heart. 

He was perfect. 

Hilarious and always there to come home to after a long day. 

Whenever my gran has gone into hospital, it's been Oscar who I've had to relax me and entertain me and who would never leave my side.

He's changed everything for the better. 

And he'll never even know.

Three years later and his little body is breaking. 

He has gum and kidney disease and a large tumor on his abdomen. 

He can't cope anymore and he's in pain. 

Which is why my gran and I made the painful decision to have him put to eternal sleep.

Our last night together was awful. 

For the entire day after I heard the news, I barely stopped crying to breathe.

I took him to the vet last week where they discovered the tumor and gum disease. They took blood tests to find out if there was anything else that would be dangerous for him if he were to have a biopsy. 

At 10am yesterday morning, they called to say it was severe kidney disease.

It was weird because, seconds before, I posted what would turn out to be my last photo of Oscar and I while he was alive. 

I captioned it 'Wednesdays With Oscar'.

I had no idea that it would be my last Wednesday. 

I barely slept last night. 

I go between crying and being numb and then unable to breathe. 

I know, to some people, it may seem silly to get this emotional over a pet but Oscar was like an anchor to me and he's my first real experience of death, except for Cory Monteith in 2013. 

He's special and beautiful and I really thought it'd be him and me until the end.

It's just sad that his end and my end aren't anywhere close to each other. 

He didn't eat his breakfast. 

I tried tempting him with a can of tuna and, after about ten minutes, he emerged from under my bed (where he's been sleeping recently) and took a few bites. 

He gave up after a minute and went back under the bed. 

I read the ending of John Groban's 'Marley and Me'. The bits about his dog's death. 

Call me masochistic but I wanted a general idea of what I'd be dealing with. 

It made me cry. 

But it was beautiful. 

John never left Marley and, in the end, he said 'Goodbye' in the best way he could.

I wrapped him up in a school hoodie I sometimes sleep in to take him to the vet's. I didn't want to stress him out by putting him in his carrier. 

I paused before we went inside but the vet talked it through with me and I nodded.

Tears steamed down my face and I kept him in my arms for a long time. 

I asked for a minute alone and she gave me a few. 

I picked Oscar up for the last time and laid out my hoodie on the table before putting him back on it.

I didn't want him to die on a cold, hard table.

I told Oscar all about how I used to want a cat. I told him I was sorry for everything I didn't do and that I didn't want him to die but that he wouldn't be in pain anymore. I told him I loved him.

When everyone came back in, I shifted and kissed him. As the needle went into his little front leg, I kissed his head and whispered 'I love you' to my cat before he took his final breath. 

The vet pronounced him dead a few seconds later. 

He wasn't in pain, he wasn't alone and the last thing he saw/heard was me telling him I loved him.

I stayed with him for a while after that. I didn't want to leave him.

I took his collar. We're getting him cremated and we're going to scatter his ashes in the garden he loved so much.

I miss him. Whenever his bell rings, it's because I can't let go of it and no longer because he's coming around the corner. 

I'm not okay. I don't know when I will be but I have amazing friends who will help me through this. 

I just wish we could've saved him.

But I think he stayed with us for just enough time for him. He never showed us his pain or let us know about it. 

Maybe it's because he didn't want to hurt us, maybe he was just private. 

I don't know. 

What I do know is that I am grateful for every single moment I had with him. 

I'm grateful for the fact he slept in my bedroom for so many nights before he died. 

And I will be eternally grateful for him choosing us to live with. 

Goodbye, Oscar. 

Mummy'll see you soon, baby. 

Jessica

xoxo