Mina: The Softness That Stayed
Some souls leave a mark that doesn’t fade — even when their paws no longer tread beside you. For me, that soul was Mina.
Mina came into my life as a community cat wit the softest meow, gentle, and used to navigating the world on her own terms. She taught me what it means to earn trust, to witness resilience, and to honor the quiet moments.
Over the short 2 years we’ve spent time together, her presence was gentle but profound — we spent quiet nights just at the corridor outside my apartment. Silent companionship, a moment for me to relax after my work shift ended.
Mina didn’t asked much, she’s just happy to see me. She’ll be waiting patiently every night right outside… On days that I was too tired and couldn’t spent time with her, and seeing her waiting outside, just tugged at my heart…
When she grew weak in her final months, I did everything I could to care for her, brought her indoors and gave her comfort. One of the night I noticed that she was so deep asleep on the pillow I gave her, she just slid off of it 😂 During one of my movie night, she came curling up on my lap. As I was working on my 1st ever Lofi track, she was there with me, letting her soft purrs fill the space as we shared our silent companionship. She lives out her last 2 months with me, Miao Miao and Bobby without any fuss.
And though her body eventually returned to the earth, she left traces of herself everywhere: in my memories, in the small rituals we shared, and in my creative journey. In fact, Mina was so meaningful to me that I even drew her wearing headphones and initially imagined her as the face of my music project — “Mina’s Mixtape.” My artist email still carries her name: **minamixtape**. Even if she didn’t inspire my music directly, she marked the starting point of my creative identity.
That night on 19th August 2022, when I had to put her to sleep. The most difficult decision I’ve to made. It was raining lightly — a soft, quiet rain, almost like the world itself was bowing in reverence. As I waited for the rain to stop that night, with Mina’s cold body in the carrier, resting next to the sofa. The gentle piano melody by Big Rice Piano soothed my broken heart. This would later became Mina’s song, whenever I listened to it, it was as though Mina was with me.
When the rain finally stopped around 3am+, I went looking at different area of grass patches around my apartment block, to find the most fitting spot as her resting place. Where I could easily stop by and visit her. When I’ve finally done with the burial, only did I noticed that I’ve buried her in a patch of grass just across my car’s parking lot. I could always see her as I sat in my car leaving or returning home. Even in absence, she found a way to remain near.
A month later, I planted an Aglaonema on her grave. One day, it was cut, but I rescued it, placing it in water until it grew roots again. The plant thrived, carrying a piece of her spirit forward. Even the remnants of its roots that remained in her grave continued to sprout new life. It felt like her energy, her resilience, and her gentle spirit were refusing to be forgotten.
Mina’s story isn’t just about loss. It’s about presence, memory, and quiet guidance. She lives on in the love I carry, in the way I move through life, and in the small ways I honor her memory. Sometimes, when I hear the soft patter of rain or see a new shoot of green, I feel her beside me again — not as a pang of grief, but as a soft reminder: that love leaves traces that endure, that the smallest beings can hold the greatest wisdom, and that every quiet soul can change the rhythm of your life.
Although I have sinced moved to another place, and felt a little sad I couldn’t bring Mina with me. But I’m glad I have her in spirit with the Aglaonema plant that I’ve saved and now thriving in my new home. I’ll always refer to this one as Mina.
Since her passing, I couldn’t bring myself to write in my journal, of that fateful night. So I suppose this post will serves as both a glimpse into who Mina was and as a closure for me.
Mina, thank you for teaching me the beauty of softness, and for leaving a mark that will never fade.