Last weekend was tough. While burying my dad at sea, 3000 miles away my 14 year old cat died in my

[Flaxbee]

husband's arms.

My dad's ceremony was nice - family was there - just his daughters. I was only on the west coast for a day, and that was the day my sweet kitty Clarisse, whom I adopted over 12 years ago, died. I knew she wasn't doing well - she was at least 14 (the shelter said she was at least 2 when I adopted her) but I didn't expect her to go so fast. At least she was with my husband (whom she loved) when she died, but it was really rough on him and I HATED not being there for her. She was my bachelorette girlfriend, greeting me every night when I got home late late late from work in NYC. She'd wait by the door for me when I got home, standing up on her hind legs batting at the doorknob as I unlocked the door. She wasn't cuddly at all - but very interactive, and she absolutely adored by husband. She was one of the reasons I decided to marry him - she never ever sat on my lap, or anyone else's, but the first time he came over to my place, she curled up in his lap and went to sleep. At that point, I knew he was a good guy. I have Clarisse to thank for that.


But when we were placing my dad's ashes in the ocean, we saw what the guide said was a blue whale - just the spout and a bit of the whale's body as s/he surfaced for air. But - a glimpse of the largest mammal on earth - was a nice way to say goodbye to my dad. My father died last December, but he wanted to be buried at sea on his birthday, so that's what we did. I had dealt with his loss months ago, and the ceremony at sea would have made him happy, he loved the ocean and it was a beautiful day out on the water.