It is awfully quiet in the house and out in the garden. Willi's strong personality preceded her whereever she went and we are left looking in her spots, despite knowing she isn't there. Even Chester is doing this, although he saw and smelled her body when we brought her back to the house from the front by the road. He isn't pining, but he is clearly lonely, subdued, and every so often, he checks, too, just to see if she's there. There is an empty kitty condo beneath the desk in the den, and a fuzzy brown cat bed with no cat curling up in it. The hardest, though, is at night. She isn't playing with Chester, or yelling for her bedtime snack. She isn't sitting on my dresser waking me up by throwing things onto the floor, and her compact little body isn't curled tightly behind my knees. A night has not passed that I have not cried, even when I was in Toronto this week, even though there is no association of Willi and Rick's apartment, I still wept. There is no little cat riding around on my shoulders, stealing my socks and washing them, or pressing her face to mine. Instead, there is a gaping hole in the fabric of the household.

My mother feels guilt because it happened when she was alone at home. She feels responsible, but I don't want her to. I don't blame her for what happened. It could have easily happened on my watch. Today, Mom was trying to think of ways in which Willi's death could have been prevented, going over the what-ifs, but I don't want to go over them. In the end, they make us feel bad and solve nothing. It happened, it was fast, and Willi is dead. No amount of pondering the circumstances will bring her back. I wish my mother wouldn't feel like it was somehow her fault, it really wasn't and I don't believe that in any way it was her fault.

On Saturday night, before bed, I said goodbye to her. I touched her nose, her paws, pulled her tail out from under her and wrapped it around her legs. I tried to close her eyes, but I don't know if they stayed shut. Mom covered the box she was in, and even when I took her to the vet's, I didn't look at her again. Today, Willi is being cremated. We took her body into the vet's on Monday, and despite the cost of cremation and having the ashes returned, I feel good about it. I will get her ashes back in a week. I'm by no means wealthy and the cost is a burden, especially after the Baltimore trip, but it means I can take her to the cottage one last time and she will get to be there forever. I had wanted to take a week in June to go up there, just her and me, but now I don't think I can bear it. Mom suggested I still could go up, but I don't think I can do it alone. The joy of having her there was too much - I can't do it yet. In August, we can all go up there, and I will take her somewhere she liked to be and lay her to bed.