It became clear a week ago Tuesday that there was no kindness in waiting. It was sooner than expected, but sometimes expectations are more hope than reality. The night before, she crept next to my pillow as I lay awake. I feared it was the last time, and tried to memorize the feel of soft, fine fur. the feel of whiskers brushing against the back of my arm, the feel of purr vibrato under my hand. And yet, nine days later, the memory of touch fades. 
The grief, however, stays fresh.