Cait Is Dead; Long Live Cait
Cait died four years ago today, on April 4, 2022.
I know that because I remember entering it into my calendar and thinking to myself how odd it was to be scheduling my own execution. I even put a question mark after it, like somehow that would stop the inevitable from happening: "Chemo?"
I didn't want to believe her life was over, but I knew Cait was gone the moment I opened my eyes that day.
In the four years since, I've mourned myself every single day. I tell other people it gets better, but it doesn't. They need to hear it, so I need to say it. They need me to pretend to be her, so I pretend. But I know she's gone; and I think they know she's gone, too.
It's been very difficult for me to describe what I feel like now -- some kind of plaintive spirit wearing Cait's skin like a tattered costume, or a zombie who has been cursed with retaining the memories of its past life. I've thought about changing my name, getting tattoos, having facial modification surgery, or changing my gender expression. I want to distance myself from that poor dead girl who didn't even get a chance to see her kids grow up. Sometimes I think that it would be merciful to end the farce entirely and let her body exit this world to be with her soul. Other times I feel I owe it to her to witness as much as I can before I am overcome.
Whomever I am and whatever I do now or in the future, I just want to write it down. I want to write it all down and express how it feels to die again and again without actually leaving this world. It's such a horrible and isolating experience to die one piece at a time, and there doesn't seem to be any help for it. So I'll write it down and hope it helps me to process this process.
Cheers to Cait. She was a good mother, wife, daughter and friend. She loved her work, her cats and her hobbies. She was fun and involved. She loved to plan things and help out anywhere she could. Her children were her world and her last wish was that they knew her as she was, not as the mom who had cancer. She was beautiful, and I miss her.

