My mom died from cancer a few weeks ago, and her black cat, Cole, was the only thing holding me together. When he disappeared after her funeral, I thought I’d lost the last piece of my mother. On Christmas Eve, Cole came back with something in his mouth, and where he led me next left me in tears.
It was four days before Christmas, and I was sitting in my mom’s living room, staring at the lights.
She’d hung them too early. But that was her thing.
Even when the chemo drained her down to nothing, she still wanted the sparkle.
The lights made everything feel festive and wrong at the same time.
The ornaments were half unpacked on the table. The same ones she’d collected since I was a kid.
She made me promise I’d put them up. Made me say it out loud in her final week.
“You’ll still decorate the tree, right, baby?” Her voice was papery and barely there.
I said yes even though everything inside me wanted to scream no.
Mom had this adorable cat named Cole. All black, sleek, like he walked out of a painting.
After the diagnosis, Cole changed.
No more casual cuddles or lazy afternoons by the window. He became something else.
Fiercely loyal. Always curled on Mom’s chest, right above her heart.
“He thinks he’s my nurse,” she’d say, laughing weakly.
Sometimes I’d walk in and see them together like that, her hand moving so gently across Cole’s back, and I’d have to turn away before she saw my face.
When she died, Cole followed me everywhere.
He didn’t meow. Didn’t act like a cat.
He acted like someone who was grieving with me.
He was all I had left… Until he vanished.
I don’t even know how long he was gone before I noticed.
Time stopped making sense after the funeral.
But one morning, the couch was empty.
The spot where Cole always curled was cold. It was the same spot where Mom’s feet used to rest.
The panic hit me so fast I nearly choked on it.
I tore through the neighborhood in my boots, screaming his name. I posted online.
Made flyers. Knocked on doors, trying not to sound insane.
I said “special” because I didn’t want to explain that he was the last heartbeat connected to my mom. That I couldn’t lose him too.
But nobody had seen him.
And I couldn’t sleep anymore.
I was terrified he’d gotten lost, trapped somewhere cold, or cornered by a dog in an alley. That he was out there scared and alone while I was too busy being broken to find him.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
