Chuleta is gone. She crossed the Rainbow Bridge while I was holding her and it was awful. It was actually much worse than I anticipated it being.
She was acting strangely and somehow I knew. I called my sister to ask for advice. I called her over and over, again, and finally, I called my best friend when I knew Chuleta was nearing the end because for some reason, I thought he should know. He came to comfort me. (I’m so indebted to him for being such an amazing friend.) I panicked and passed her off to him because I was hysterical and unsure if she was still breathing. I immediately regretted doing that and still regret it because I’m afraid that in that time she may have thought I was abandoning her at a crucial moment. I took her back and held her close, while her breathing was so shallow. I held her tightly and just cried.
Then she was gone and I didn’t want to put her limp, little body down and leave her, so my sister offered to take her so I wouldn’t have to deal with the thought of her being alone. That part was almost unbearable. I couldn’t (and still can’t) help but think about how scared she must have been.
I pray that she felt safe and loved. I hope she felt that she lived a life with a girl who would have gone to the moon and back for her. We never got to fulfill her bucket list or celebrate her sweet sixteen, but she was there when my mother died, when we moved to Secor, when I attempted college for the first time and failed, when I moved to Florida, then moved in with Lori, and when we lost Kevin. It’s truly the end of an era.
My little bug, the first love of my life is gone. R.I.P. little old lady face; I will love you always.