The Voice of an Aching Soul

A vague memory I have of my mother is that she was really beautiful. I was merely two weeks old when I lost her. She was a poor old soul with four little ones to look after – yes, we were quadruplets.

Since we were poor, we lived at the mercy of others. There was nobody left in the family to look after us. I never knew who my father was. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to know him or ask my mother about him, as she left this world far too early – before I could even begin to understand the world around me.

I still remember the day my mother decided to move from the house we were staying in. She could only take one child at a time to the new place, as there was no one to help her. She took two of my siblings, one by one, to the new place. I waited patiently with the only sibling left – my sister.

Time passed, yet my mother didn’t return.

We became afraid, anxious, and curious. Where was she? Where had she taken our siblings? We waited and waited until our patience began to run out. My sister started to cry, and so did I. Fear coursed through our little bodies. Our tiny stomachs were filled with hunger.

Yet my mother didn’t return.

Our cries were heard.

The owners of the house noticed our plight. They were a family of four – a mother, father, and two children. The mother and her daughter took us in, giving us food and shelter.

After two days of constant crying, we finally managed to get some sleep. But deep inside, I was still afraid. I didn’t know where my mother was or why she hadn’t returned.

They were good people. They fed us well and looked after us. Then, one day, I overheard the mother of the house telling a neighbour that our mother had passed away.

It was a shock.

I stood still.

Then I heard the dreadful truth. My mother had died bravely while fighting three big dogs to save my siblings. She had fought until the very end, but she had lost the battle.

My sister and I were left orphaned, without our mother and without our siblings. And for the first time, I realised the horrible truth – we only had each other.

Days passed. We grew up little by little, thanks to the kindness of the family who had taken us in.

That’s when we noticed our neighbours – a kind-hearted family of four. We knew they wouldn’t drive us away, so we sometimes went over to their house too. Slowly, life began to feel normal again.

Until another tragedy came our way.

My sister got hurt.

I don’t know how it happened, but she was badly injured. Her painful cries still resonate in my ears. I couldn’t do anything. I was helpless.

The family who looked after us tried their best to save her, but she eventually succumbed to her injuries.

I became alone.

All alone.

I wandered around like a lonely soul. The families from both houses took pity on me and looked after me as if I were their own. But I missed my mother. I missed my siblings. Most of all, I missed having a family of my own.

There was another family living near my neighbours’ house. It consisted of a mother and three sons – two younger sons from her current marriage and an elder son from her previous marriage, who was around my age.

I was happy when I found someone to play with, someone who could keep me company and help me forget my loneliness.

The two younger children and the elder one were fond of me. They liked playing with me. But their mother didn’t like it. Whenever she saw me around them, she would shove me away.

Still, the children would come looking for me and play with me. But the moment they saw their mother’s shadow; they would leave me and run away.

I watched them – the elder brother and the younger ones – play together and sleep together in silence.

My heart throbbed with pain as I remembered my own family.

With a heavy heart and an aching soul, I walked away without a word.

I knew I was all alone in this lifetime.

Nobody was there to caress me or comfort me the way I longed for. The only solace I could have had was the warmth of my family, if they had been alive.

I am not sure why God prepared a route map for my life that led me in a direction I never intended to travel.

What can I say?

Words are not enough to describe my agony.

After all, I am just a cat.

All I can say is a meow – meaningless to others.