Nati's tears

The line between life and death isn't always as clear as one might think -- it's as wispy as the soft breaths of air passed through two tiny lungs.

Her labored breath remained raspy and ragged. We did. all. we could. And in the end, though we made the choice to let her go, though we resolved, humbled by our inner turmoil, to help her on her way, she left on her own terms, in our arms, gently, peacefully. Loved.

She was soft as a feather -- and nearly as light as one -- with beautiful blue eyes and a wispy tail. Her tail -- it was nearly as long as she was. It was perfect. She was perfect.

We carried her home, her still, peaceful body, and buried her under a tree in the moonlight. We left her a glass of water so she will never be thirsty. We sobbed together under a tree in the moonlight. We lit a candle for her.

I held her brother Liam and told him. I apologized for not being able to do more, and he licked Nati's tears from my cheeks.

Tonight, the Leonids streak through the sky, ephemeral and fleeting as a tiny kitten's breath. They cry Nati's tears; they whisper her name.