Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

Loving Memory of Bill

The late October air was soft that year, the kind of days you find only in Arizona. At the St. Francis festival, Franciscan monks gathered to bless pets that people had brought to be consecrated. For those without a pet, there was no issue: you could adopt one right on the spot.

We already had Lucy, our lively and clever boxer, but, since Mom was very sick and adored cats, we thought we’d surprise her. We decided to take her along to the adoption event to see if one little cat might capture our hearts – or, as cats tend to do, make us work to capture theirs.

It was the whole family: Mom, Dad, Irina, and Cosmin. Lucy stayed home, naturally, since we were questing for a feline friend. It was 2005, nine years after we’d come to the U.S, and nine years after mom had been learning English. By that time, she was pretty fluent, so when she said, “Let me take a look by myself”, we let her explore on her own to search freely for the right kitty. All except Cosmin, of course, who stayed close, just to help if needed, and because she was his beloved Grandma and they were glued to each other.

When we found Mom again, she was cradling a small black and white kitten, clutching it as if she’d never let go – and the little one seemed just as reluctant to leave her arms.

For nearly 20 years, Bill (formerly Fortune, which our family of ESL speakers found too hazardous to pronounce) was so much more than a pet that he became a beloved member of the family. Through life’s ups and downs, Bill offered quiet companionship, endless playfulness, and a warmth that filled our hearts. His gentle purrs and steady presence were a constant comfort, a silent but ever-present friend. Well, sometimes he liked to sing the songs of his Ancestors in the middle of the night, which usually woke us up in a total panic.

As a kitten, Bill was all curiosity and mischief, but he grew into a wise, loyal companion. His early days with Lucy started out at a rather remote, suspicious, and clearly defined distance, a neutral zone that actually seemed to foreshadow potential disaster. But soon, their hesitancy blossomed into a lasting friendship: the two eventually learned that they were better as allies than enemies and aliens. Photos of them together still warm our hearts.

Bill loved life’s simple pleasures: sunbeams, a toy to chase, a cozy lap. He’d curl up anywhere, from our shoulders to my wife’s chest, even her head, always sensing when a soft nudge or a quiet meow was needed most. His spirit was resilient, his affection endless, and his bond with each of us unbreakable.
Now, our home feels a bit emptier, but the love he brought into it will stay with us forever. Thank you, Bill, for all the years of joy. You’ll be deeply missed, but never forgotten.

Irina often said that, as long as Bill was with us, Mom was, too – as though a portion of his unquenchable spirit resided within her. She wrote recently: “Before our last visit to the veterinarian, I took him to Cosmin’s grave so he could feel the grass and hear the birds one last time, letting him go peacefully, just as he’d lived. Bill, our Guardian Prince who used to return at dawn with his nightly trophy, is irrevocably bound to the precious memories of when our grandparents and Cosmin were still with us. Losing him feels like losing them all over again.”

“This,” she added quietly, “is the end of an era.”

Rest in peace, old dear friend.