Goodbye Mimi

Today could’ve been a normal day.
But I felt something. When I asked about you.
I just suddenly felt something was wrong. Like you’re not there anymore.
You’re not there anymore.

Today could’ve been a normal day.
If only I did not know. You’re not here anymore.

We grew up together.
Now it’s just me. I don’t know if I want to grow up anymore.

Last Tet holiday, I wanted to take a picture of our family together. Everyone. And you, too.
I felt like it would be too late to wait another year. I was afraid you would be gone this year. I don’t know why I felt that way.
But we never took that photo.
We can’t now. Not anymore.
You’re not here anymore.

Two years ago, you were terribly sick.
At some points, you hid yourself in a dark corners for days. You suffered. You bled. Sheds of blood marked every way you ran. You were thin and weak. We could smell your wound. It was terrible.
The vet came and said you were dying, and that we should give you “the shot”. It was easy.
But family could not do it. Because you were still our little greedy boy. You could eat. You could run. I couldn’t just “kill” you.

Now I wish I had.
I wish I had killed you that day. I was too selfish, I wanted to keep you for another year, two more years, many more years.
You could have died in my arms. I could have bid you goodbye. I could have held your little paws, pet your head, and said “Sleep tight.” I could’ve been the one to bury you.
At least that way, I’d known you’d lived your whole life happy with us. And that you slept your way into infinity.

But I was too selfish. I kept you. You got better, magically.
You stayed with us for another year.

But now you’re gone.
You’re just… gone. We don’t know where you are.

I asked mom where you were going. Deep down, honestly, I hope she’d not tell me. I’m not ready to hear the story.
To me, you’re still somewhere home. How can you be anywhere else?
It’s a cruel world out there.
How can you be anywhere else but home?

I’m not ready.
I’ve prepared myself for this a long time ago. Yet today, I’m not ready.
I can’t let you go.

We grew up together.
Now it’s just me. I don’t want to grow up anymore.
Who wants to grow up anyway?

Goodbye Mimi.
I love you. I did not know it’d hurt this much.
Family love you.
I know you loved us, too.

Mimi, 2002 – 2016.