A Small Part of Me Went Away Today

Quietly.
Without noise.
Without drama.
Just like she had come into my life.

My little bunny – Chutki.

There is something very unfair about how attached we get to these tiny souls who trust us completely. They do not know the complicated world we live in. They do not know betrayal, politics, egos, or convenience friendships. They only know presence. Warmth. Routine. Love.

And maybe that is why their absence hurts so much more.

Today when I looked at her empty space, I didn’t just remember Chutki. I remembered all the others too. The ones who came into my life trusted me, depended on me, and then left – some to better homes, some to better worlds, and some leaving behind spaces that never quite get filled again.

And strangely, grief is never about just one loss.

It opens doors.

Doors to other memories.
Other hurts.
Other disappointments we quietly pack away because life expects us to “move on”.

Today I also found myself thinking about how easily people forget. How easily people stop caring. How quickly warmth turns into indifference. How sometimes goodness is taken as weakness and consistency is taken for granted.

It makes you wonder.

Is the world becoming harsher?
Or are we just seeing it more clearly as we grow older?

There is so much noise around us today. So much anger. So much hatred. So much need to prove, to dominate, to win. Kindness feels rare. Loyalty feels seasonal. Concern feels conditional.

And fairness?

Fairness sometimes feels like a luxury.

Yet somewhere between all this… there is still me.

A slightly bruised me.
A slightly tired me.
A questioning me.
But also a resilient me.

Because despite everything, I still cannot stop caring.

I still cannot stop doing small things that matter.
I still cannot become indifferent.
I still cannot learn the art of calculated relationships.

And maybe that is both my strength and my weakness.

Today I cried for Chutki.

But maybe I also cried for that part of myself that still believes the world should be gentler than it is.

And yet… tomorrow I know I will still put out water for birds in the summer. I will still help someone who needs it. I will still trust selectively but deeply. I will still choose warmth over cleverness.

Because if pain teaches anything, it teaches this:

We do not become strong by becoming hard.
We become strong by remaining soft in a hard world.

Chutki took a small piece of my heart with her today.

But she also reminded me of something important.

That the part of me that hurts…
is also the part of me that is still beautifully alive.

And maybe that is what I must protect the most.

Goodbye my little Chutki.
You were small… but the space you leave behind is not.