Write a 8 paragraphs from first person point of view about a 12 year old losing her girl black cat due to a tumer on her back. And also explain how time heals a broken heart.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow across the backyard where I often spent hours playing with my cat, Luna. She was all black with bright green eyes that sparkled like emeralds. Luna was not just a pet; she was my confidante, my shadow. Every evening after school, I would rush home to find her lying in the sunniest spot on the porch, her little body stretching like a soft black ribbon. But that afternoon, as I gently petted her, I felt something—something out of place nestled against her fur. My heart dropped as I looked closer and saw the small lump on her back. I remember racing back into the house, my mind swirling with worry. My mom’s steady voice filled the air as she diagnosed it over the phone, her tone both calm and concerned. “It could be a tumor, sweetie,” she said gently, but the words hit me like ice water splashed on my skin. I had heard stories about tumors before; they were bad, and I couldn't shake off the growing pit in my stomach. With every passing moment, I prayed it wasn't what I feared, but deep down, I sensed that the days we had left together were quickly dwindling. Our visit to the vet was a whirlwind of anxiety. Luna sat in my lap, her head nestled against my chest, seeking comfort while I fought back tears. The vet’s somber expression told me everything before she spoke. “I'm so sorry, but it looks like it’s a malignant tumor. We can try treatment, but…” I could barely hear the rest of her words over the pounding of my heart. I felt my world start to crumble. Just a week ago, Luna was chasing after leaves in the garden, and now I was faced with the idea of losing her. The days that followed were a blur of treatments and vet visits, with brief moments of hope dashed by the harsh reality of her condition. I watched as Luna, who used to leap around with such grace, began to slow down. She would curl up on my lap more often, her breathing soft and labored. It hurt to see her this way, yet I held tightly to the memories we had shared—the way she purred when I stroked her head and how her eyes danced with mischief as she pounced on her favorite toy. In my 12 years, I had never felt such a deep sorrow. The day came when we had to make the hardest decision of all. The thought of it twisted my stomach into knots. I whispered my love to Luna as the vet prepared for the final moments. She looked into my eyes, and I could swear she understood. In those precious seconds, all the pain and worry fell away, replaced by a pure and unbreakable bond that had been built over years of companionship. I held her close as she drifted away, and for that moment, I felt both emptiness and peace—a longing I would carry with me forever. In the days following Luna’s passing, the house felt achingly quiet. I found myself wandering through rooms we had shared, where her toys still lay scattered, remnants of happier times. It was hard to focus on school or friends; my heart felt heavy with sorrow. I missed her warmth, her purring presence beside me while I read. Even my dreams were full of her, and I woke feeling even more lost without her. I wondered if the ache in my heart would ever fade—or if it would always be a part of me. But time, I learned, is a remarkable healer. Slowly, I began to find comfort in the memories of Luna. With each passing day, I felt the sharpness of grief dulling, transforming into a gentle sadness that reminded me of the love we shared. I started to remember the joy she brought into my life rather than just the void she left behind. My friends rallied around me, sharing stories of their lost pets, each story weaving a tapestry of understanding and empathy. The warmth of that shared experience helped me realize that I was not alone in my heartbreak. As months passed, I felt a newfound resilience blooming within me. Though Luna would always have a special place in my heart, the pain became less of a burden and more like a cherished memory. I began to find solace in new activities, like painting and writing, allowing my emotions to flow into my creations. I vowed to honor Luna's memory, knowing that to truly celebrate her life, I had to keep living mine. Over time, I discovered that while Luna was gone, her spirit would remain with me—forever woven into the fabric of who I am.