Missing, Now Gone, letting go of hope Options

[Mink&WillowsMom]

I started this topic on the Missing and Lost thread, but now that I have come to believe my precious Twitchit is dead, I am moving my story over here. When I still had hope, I couldn't bear to read the stories with sad endings -- I needed to see the "he came home!" ones.

I found this website a year ago after losing my precious baby Mink kitty to a car.
(A soul-rending loss I'm still not over.)
Three months ago my dad died, and I inherited his wonderful cat Twitchit (see avatar photo). We've adored each other for all of his six years, and I was sooo looking forward to having him in my home. The transition from his house (across the street) to mine was going slowly but smoothly. He's been able to roam at will with his cat-door, and my plan was to get him used to a new cat door at my house, then work toward locking him in at night. (I have three other kitties, one of whom has outdoor privileges when I'm home, and the two youngest -- adopted after Mink's death -- have never been outside.) Twitchit likes all three of my kids, and they like him back.

I let him back out Saturday evening, 6/30, and haven't seen him since. Very odd. Neutered, he didn't tend to roam, and has never stayed away more than a couple nights. Now that six days have gone by, I've been losing hope rapidly.

At first, I heard Dad in my head saying, "it's okay, he's fine."
Then it changed to, "he's fine, he's with me."
I didn't want to believe it as a truth, but it rang deeply in me.

Following a link I found here, I ended up hiring an Animal Communicator psychic. I'm not religious, and I've been trained as an empiricist, but I also know there's far more to the mystic side of things if we just still ourselves and listen. Experiences since Mink's death, and around my father's death have opened me up to trusting my intuitive, instinctual side, and recognizing souls have paths far beyond this physical pit-stop we call a lifespan.

Anyway, the Animal Communicator had quite tried to discourage me from purchasing her service after looking at the sketched map I sent her. There are so many woods, she was concerned that if the message was "I see trees and brush" it would be next to useless. But I hired her anyway.

If you wish to see specifically what she told me, go to the Missing & Lost section, and find my post there today, under the "72 hours gone, starting to freak out" posting. But the upshot is that he was killed by a predator animal. I've been knowing this in my heart of hearts, and now there's nothing else rational left to cling to. I desperately hope I'm wrong, and Hilary said she hopes she's wrong, but Twitch would be home by now if we were. Miracles can happen, and I will gladly celebrate if he returns.

So here I am mourning my third major death in a year. Right now, as I write this, I am numb. Then the grief rears up and slams me again. I've been in various stages of grief for the last 12 months and 25 days, first over Mink, then Dad, now Twitch. I am a strong woman, and make appointments with my therapist when I need to (I suspect I'll be calling her shortly), but how many deaths is a person supposed to be hit with in a year? I said goodbye to elderly kitties in 2002 and 2003, and adopted two beautiful healthy baby boys. When Mink was killed he was only 3 years old.

Right now I'm starting to fear that this run of deaths is never going to end. I'm generally an optimist, but Willow still goes outside (I go back and forth on this, but revoking his outdoor privileges after four years seems cruel, yet maybe I need to do this), and my nephew is being deployed to Iraq soon. I'm starting to feel jinxed?
Kimberly

[Mink&WillowsMom]

It's now been 16 days. I was thrilled to hear 5catsmom's good news, and I've taken everybody's suggestions. Today, I posted flyers at the grocery store in town, and the convenience store on the way into town. I took flyers to all the local vets, and posted an ad in the local (weekly) paper. After that, it's all up to the gods and Twitchit.

Rather than doing it out of hope, I did it out of need for closure.
Six months from now I don't want to be lying in bed wondering if I left something undone, something that would have brought him home if I'd just....

If he were able to come home, he would have by now. I know I've done my best to find him, and need to just release it the best I can.

On the whole, I'm doing pretty well. It's just another fold in the cloak of grief I've been wearing for the last year. I'd been starting to shrug it off after Dad's death, so I know it's not permanently attached, but dang I'm tired of it. It's a most unstylish shade of gray and it weighs a lot.

On the plus side, I've decided to enclose the lake property with cat fencing before I move over there. That way, Willow, Rohan, and Luna can grow old with me, free of run-ins with predators and cars. I had been on the fence about it (pun joyfully included), but now am committed to creating a home that lets my kids go outside and play safely.
Kimberly