I’ve been meaning to write this post for a while, but grief can be so, so tough.

Next Wednesday will mark two months since Coconut passed away. It was the hardest day of my life, and not a day goes by when I don’t think of him. I’m so grateful that he was surrounded by people who loved him so much—my sister, my boyfriend, and myself—when the time came. He was 16, and the decade he spent in our family is a period we will always cherish.

I had the privilege of taking care of him for the last six years. He was with me through the biggest moments of my life: he kept me sane during the pandemic, comforted me through heartbreaks, watched me cross the finish line at my marathon, accompanied me to new cities, and moved with me to three different apartments. He was snoozing offscreen when I interviewed for my current company back in 2020. He witnessed the struggles and triumphs of grad school. He saw me develop new hobbies, from cooking to reading to iceskating.

He showed me unconditional love, and I hope he felt it from me too. We snuggled to sleep nearly every night, and even now, I still imagine his little chin resting on the crook of my elbow in bed.

I told my sister shortly after he passed that I think of him as “a little guardian spirit that pops down to observe and nudge every once in a while before floating back to his friends.” I hope that’s true, and that’s still how he exists in my mind and heart. Grief is so unpredictable — just last weekend, after a perfectly normal day, I fell asleep crying because of how much I missed him. Most days are not like that anymore, but I know that it comes in waves. It’s just a testament to how loved he was.

Ending with photos of Coconut through the years — it’s been a wonderful journey together. I love you, lil Coco. You’re with us always. ❤️