Saying Goodbye To Eliza Snow Nirvana
Eliza Snow Nirvana has crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Eliza has been my longest running roommate of this life. I have lived with her longer than anyone, except for my parents (and, they only won that race by a few months).
Eliza came to us on January 29, 2006 when my daughter Sophia and I adopted her from the Nashville Humane Association. Eliza was a months-old kitten at the time she joined our family and she moves on from this world after 18 years and three months with us. That calculates her age to somewhere between 88-90 human years.
Her name derives from her obvious feistiness, snow white color and spiritual nature. She is an Arctic Fisher Cat, descended from an ancient breed known to survive the harshest prehistoric conditions by using their claws to dig through ice in order to claim their sea bound fare.
Eliza lived fully, coming close to maxing out her ‘nine-lives’. She survived a broken leg, two ‘stone’ removals, surgery from eating a sewing needle, and several scuffles with her step-sister Sugar.
Eliza was my companion through great times and dark times. Was it not for her company in some of those more worrisome days I may not be writing this today. She never held my inconsistencies or foolishness against me. When all seemed lost, she was there, loving unconditionally and showing the utmost loyalty.
Eliza traveled with me as we moved from the suburbs of Nashville, TN to the ‘Queen City’ of Charlotte, NC in 2010. A move to the iron laden mountains of Birmingham, AL came soon after where we settled down into the bones of a newly regenerating downtown. We moved to Wichita, KS in 2013 where Eliza got to experience the beautiful sunsets of the plains and the thundering rolls of midwestern storms. It was there she felt the closest to her ancestors when the sub-zero temperatures roared through with freezingly wicked intent. She was thankful for evolution granting her a bit warmer surroundings and accoutrements in life. We came back to Birmingham in 2014, and I had mostly resigned myself to a rugged life of solo humanity. But, Eliza was there when Shannon and I met. She was there when light came into my life. She lived with frolicking joy as our family expanded to include Shannon and Sugar and it now seemed like I just might make it after all.
Eliza has lived on the banks of the Cahaba River in the heart of Alabama witnessing frogs, the occasional deer, owls, and neighbors Fats Oreo and Trixie. She came with us as we moved deeper into Birmingham amongst the oaks and city clamor to a home built with nothing but love. And, this is where she has moved on to her next stop, beyond.
A cruel irony in life is that what animals exceed humans in, which is nearly everything from compassion, love and loyalty, is paid back to them with what we humans actually deserve: A shorter life. But maybe it isn’t that at all. Maybe our perception of time, a linear draft of an unraveling story, is simply different from the animals. Maybe they are the ones who have it better. Whatever the case, we are left with the pain of loss, the grief, the memories.
The morning thump of her paws against the bathroom door waiting for me to get out of the shower so she can walk right in and frolic through the steamy water. Walking into the living room to see her on Shannon’s lap enjoying their coffee and cuddles. The occasional joining in on a work zoom call with me for all in my workplace to see. Her walking up the ramp after we crawl into bed to get in her ‘nest’ within Shannon’s arm and sleep for most of the night with us.
I am sad Eliza is gone. I am still sad that our dear Sugar is gone, several years after her passing. We still hear her occasional pitter-pattering along the hardwoods. I swear I see her out of the corner of my eye at times. Sitting, caring.
The death of our animals is a reality, a bite, stinging us as proof that we are alive. A curse? Maybe, however, I believe it is a gateway; an opening to live better, fuller, awake. Until the light of my brain dims to nothingness I will remember our companions. I may forget a lot, but not these most loving creatures who have blessed my life. The marks they have put on us, including a couple scratch scars, will remain until we ourselves are dust.
Run free Eliza. Run free across the universe.