A Message on Grief

When each of my cats were alive and dying, I wrote them a letter. Funny thing, writing a letter to a cat who would never be able to read it. In truth it was for me. It was for the random Tuesday when I forget how Swag used to patiently wait for me to roll around in bed and eventually settle onto my stomach before she’d lay on me. When I’d forget that Nutmeg would shake her little head, and spit would go everywhere because she had no teeth or when Pilot my sweet shy loaf first hopped on the back of my couch and started chewing my hair for attention. I wrote it for me in my grief to remember all the love when I couldn’t conjure it on my own.

When my uncle passed suddenly in July, I promptly left work in Stamford, CT and came home for the service. I had gone to a family party back in May and had no idea that it would be the last time I saw him. He was so excited to see me (I am the cousin that is never around much anymore), and when he insisted on standing up to hug me hello and goodbye it felt so strange. Why would he do that? He didn’t need to; I knew he was sick, but it never occurred to me that it would be the last hug. That a few weeks later when he called to say thank you for the protein shakes I’d sent that the last thing I’d say to him was “I love you too, happy father’s day”. That I’d never hear him call me “Miss”.. which only then occurred to me that that is a nickname reserved for my uncles.

Sometimes even on the happiest days the grief seeps in for the people or fur babies I’ve lost. When you feel guilty for being so happy when just hours, days, weeks ago you were inconsolable for something you loved dearly. There is something so poignant about grief. All the things you used to do and can’t anymore. All the things you can now do that you couldn’t before. You never know when the next time is the last time.

If you’re lucky you catch glimpses of your loved ones from time to time. They show up to say hello in songs that remind you of them or on blankets you long thought couldn’t possibly have their fur on it still. Maybe another animal shows up as a symbol that they have found peace and are still watching over you.

Grief isn’t meant to stop you in your tracks, although it surely does for a little while. It’s meant to show you that love existed in such a high quantity that you can feel it’s opposite seemingly multiplied. Grief will catch you smiling and laughing one minute and in tears the next, but not for nothing. Remind yourself that grief is just love with nowhere to go anymore, all things lost were things loved and will come back to you another way.