Death. You know, it seems absurd, but actually the death of our cat Bilal is the closest that death has touched my life — ever.
Considering that I’m now 35, I think that’s pretty fucking weird.
But then again: This was a sudden, unexpected death… We found the body ourselves… We had to figure out what happened, and what to do with the body…
All my grandparents are dead. Sadly, I wasn’t close to any of them. A couple of people I knew in high school died sudden, shockingly violent deaths, but they weren’t really close friends and I didn’t really care. No one really close to me has ever died, not yet. But I suppose that’s coming.
In a way, Bilal’s death seemed like a miniature rehearsal for future grief.
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