Nabi just passed away some 35 minutes ago. It was witnessed by myself, my sister, and my father. Our house is a river of tears right now. He fought his best all the way to the last (even slashed up my face while I was trying to move him to a more comfortable spot). I don't know if Chabi is aware yet that his brother is no longer with us.
I keep staring at his little corpse, somehow expecting it would somehow come back to life, even for just a little moment. It is, of course, an impossibility. I saw his death throes, his last defiance of death, even as he was choking in blood and spittle. I saw his eyes stare at me, eyes wide, until his soul left him and his eyes dilated to all black.
I know now why cats try to slink away and die in private. We... I robbed him of that, afraid of letting go, wanting to seem him bounce back just one more time. But it wasn't meant to be.
I can't sleep, not yet. My mother doesn't know yet, and she is in Malaysia right now. Nabi was most closest to her, and she to Nabi. She will find out in a matter of hours. In some ways, she probably already knows, via psychic connection or something....
I will miss Nabi, the orange cat. He kept us all company through several years. He was very shy, but when he came to know you, he was the loveliest and neediest cat of all. In his last hours, I played some flute for him. He practically grew up in Pittsburgh, listening to flutes played by my friend Lida, and later on, myself. He enjoyed listening to the flute, sometimes snoozing in the studio while my students played on.
He's lying there on the small leather couch-chair. We haven't figured what to do with the body yet. He's looking at me, his eyes refusing to close, even as my sister and I tried to gently guide them closed. Feisty and defiant to the end. I resist the urge to call his name just one more time, hoping for the flick of the tail that was his acknowledgement, because I know it will no longer come.
Rest In Peace, Nabi. May your next life be prosperous in whatever form it may take.
