to leave...

Surreal morning to wake up to.

It is rather weird to get up and not hear Azureluna pouncing around. As I laid in bed last night after a trip to the ER, heading off to a deep slumber, at first I thought that I heard him shuffling in his litter box. Was just another noise. Then words from my *boyfriend* Thomas at work zipped through my mind, and I broke down and cried. “I have yet

...to leave: yet I already feel lost.”

The jazz last night was excellent, the company even more so. My good friend from my masters program and I got at the White Lamb right at 8pm and nabbed a few good seats. She kept my spirits up throughout the evening. We chatted about my cat from Jasper, Georgia, how he made it to almost 11 years of age, and all of the significance behind the timing of how, where, when he entered my life and the timing of his death.

When I was at university I had a boyfriend for a couple of years. When I moved to Atlanta, things went flying apart and I found myself single for the first time as a young woman. At the age of 24 I was ready to take on the world, yet yearned for the company of someone when I got home to my adorable yet empty house apartment. So off to the mountains of Georgia I drove, up highway 76 through Canton, only to stop at an Amoco gas station in Jasper to meet the woman who was selling him. We got home, he was screaming and rather annoyed, so we hung out a bit. Later that evening I went outside to think about what to name him. I thought about naming him after the city where I picked him up, and the fit was not quite right. I then thought about the color of his eyes—a piercing blue—and started translating it into different languages. Azul, nah. Azure, it is a type of blue, good start. The moon was out and it hit me—Azureluna.

In less than 2 weeks, after nearly 11 years of never understanding fully why I have been running from myself in my early adulthood, I am whole and am moving to Switzerland alone. Single for the first time since I bought Azureluna. I honestly feel that he knew it was ok for me to continue my journey alone. As he sat on the examination table yesterday, I looked at him and asked if he was ready to go. He slowly blinked approvingly.

The vet administered the first injection to allow him to sleep. Of course, over the years he always seemed to get in the last word and as the first injection went in he bit my thumb, nailing it right at the tendon. It is still swollen this morning and hurts like hell. I held him in my arms as he snored, singing *Prince Nez*, the song I would dance to with him when he was a kitten by the Squirrel Nut Zippers. The second and final injection was administered as I held him, and quickly he went to sleep for good. In his mother’s arms. He was pronounced dead at 17:20 yesterday, a holiday in Europe that celebrates the Ascension of Jesus (not a religious person here, just found the coincidence interesting!!)

So this morning I started cleaning up his things, nursing my thumb and now arm. My thumb was hurting, the tendon was inflamed last night and I decided to call the emergency doctor to see if I could get an antibiotic as a preventative measure. When was my last tetanus shot, he asks. Oh great. 1983. So at 1:30am I am in the ER, speaking in Danish to the nurse, telling her how I hate needles and shots. She quickly grabs my left arm and gets me, meanwhile I am yelping curses in Danish—aye for helvede, for fanden. She laughs after it is over, commenting that my Danish is rather excellent, considering that when I first got in I explained in Danish that I speak Spanish and English and that my Danish is not that good. I was indeed proud, first medical examination I did without speaking English. Even more so impressive, since earlier in the evening I was speaking Spanish to someone at the White Lamb and usually it takes a few days for me to flip languages in my head.

So back to the quote that started this entry. When Thomas said it last week, it was rather touching. What a beautiful saying. And it occurred to me last night that Azureluna felt lost to a degree, for he can tell that a move is underway and he does not like change. Yet he knew I am no longer lost, complete and whole, and therefore he was ready to leave.

On the flip—what if we do not have the strength to move on? How do we know we are at that place where we can?

Intuition for starters, at least for me. Early in the morning of 23 April, I woke at 2:30am and made sense of a few things. I let go and surrendered to one notion, and everything spiritually, mentally and emotionally came into alignment. I felt a peace I never had before, and I was pretty sure that my moving on to Switzerland felt right. That my thoughts of being whole were spot on. With Azureluna dying, nearly 11 days before my move to Switzerland, it is a sign for sure.

In trusting the process, everything comes full circle, revealing itself when it is time to do so.

As for my little man from Jasper, Georgia… he will be cremated on Monday. I am still thinking about where to spread his ashes, and for sure there will be a place here in Denmark, his last home. As for Switzerland, well, it does not feel quite right, to bring his ashes (or even a part of them) there. Although I will be leaving him here in Denmark and going to Switzerland alone, sometimes we have to leave in order to come back.

question: when are you found?