Crying

I think I control my tears pretty well and don’t cry much for a girl. Yet I have one soft spot – pets.

I cried over the death of my pet terrapin when I was in kindergarten. My mother put the body of the dead terrapin in a transparent box and sealed it up (hence became some sort of "terrapin coffin"). I cried when I threw the "terrapin coffin" into the pond in Ang Mo Kio Garden.

I cried over my brown rabbit in primary school. My younger sister had fed Mary with some leaves which had been sprayed with insecticide. My mother (yes, yet again) had to bury the body of the poor rabbit in Ang Mo Kio garden (yes, yet again).

I cried over my ducklings when they grew too big and I had to part with them. I even had names for them – Fifi & Fafa.

I cried when my parents did not allow me to keep the kitten I rescued from the roadside and I had to give it up to SPCA.

I cried over the death of my favourite fish. This was one quirky fish which simply loves raisins. Weird but absolutely true.

I cried when Domin got into some trouble as an adolescent and my parents threatened to send her away. Viola – this was one time crying worked and I won! My parents gave in eventually and she got to stay with us for many more years to come, until last week.

Yet, none of the above could prepare me for the crying I was to do when Domin left last Friday (9 January 2009). I knew she had not been in good health as her visits to the vet had become much more frequent and she had a persistent cough that just would not go away. However, her departure was still sudden and unexpected to me. Surely there was still a distance between ill health and death? I had intended to take a week off to keep her company and bring her to all her favourite places. But as fate would have it, we were not to be given that 1 more week together and it breaks my heart.

Her departure left such a big void in my heart that I don’t know if, and when, it will be filled again. I talk to the air and to the urn containing her ashes. I touch the air spaces where I know her head would usually rest. I even wish for her spirit to come back. A few nights, I sat in the living room waiting…

I can’t bear to pack away her food, her clothes, her shampoo, her brush, her pram, her medicine. I know I should get down to it but I keep on putting it off day after day because it’s just too painful. I feel guilty for eating food which I know she loves. And for those places she loves to go, I will avoid for as long as I possibly can.

And I cry. I know I have to stop crying. I know that I need to let beautiful memories of our times together replace the grief and the sorrow and the crying. I am trying my best.

Domin's jie-jie