A Lesson on Grief

One year ago, my cat passed away. It was an extremely difficult loss, my first pet passing, and truthfully my first unexpected loss of someone significant to me. Extremely unexpected. He was less than 2 years old and we had only had  eight wonderful months with him.

I was absolutely devastated. I texted all my friends and told them not to reach out because I couldn't handle talking to others and quite frankly, didn't want to have to talk about it. I didn't want to hear all the I'm sorrys and feel like I had to be strong enough to respond and say it's ok. It wasn't ok. I wasn't ok. I felt ashamed and embarrassed on top of all my grief. I cried for days. I didn't leave the house or the couch for that matter. I didn't have the strength. My grief took everything out of me.

 I just laid there and cried. At first I was crying so hard I couldn't even talk. I called my mom and was a mess. A mixture of crying, screaming, trouble breathing... I had to stop mid sentence to blow my nose every couple words. My words didn't even make sense because my thoughts were racing through my head trying to get out in-between sobs. To be honest I don't even think I fully heard a single word she said, I just needed to talk to someone, anyone, to get out all those emotions and thoughts so they weren't circulating on repeat inside my mind. My face was covered in moisture, a mix of tears and whatever was coming out of my mouth and runny nose. My head started to hurt from crying so hard until I couldn't physically cry anymore and could close my eyes. Only for minutes until it started back up again involuntarily.

The same thoughts kept running through my head over and over. Why did this happen? What could I have done differently? It's not fair. And the worst was all the memories of him. Hiding away in the house that he once lived in, everything I looked at reminded me of him. His favorite spot on the couch, the cabinets he liked to reprieve up onto, his toys, 7'o clock was his dinner time when he would shake his tail like a little rattlesnake. To think we'll never see that again, we'll never call his name again, we'll never see him do his dinner dance, him playing with our feet over the covers at night or look at us with those big blue eyes.

The first few days were non stop crying. And a lot of anger. I was angry at the world, angry at myself, struck with guilt and shame. Angry at anyone I could find a reason to get angry with. Mixed with heavy sobs and lots and lots of tears. I couldn't sleep the first few nights because I was just flooded with emotions and tears. I stopped crying just to start back up again only minutes later. And this continued for days.

In the moment I didn't know how, or if, I would ever be able to move on. I couldn't imagine how all that pain, grief, and sadness would go away. In the moment, it felt like I was going to be sad forever. I couldn't imagine a world where I wasn't feeling pain in my heart weighing so heavily.

One year later, I reflect and remember. While I still think about him all the time, visit his memorial in our backyard, talk to him, and water the azalea we planted on his grave, somewhere along the way I began to heal. It took time. A lot of time. But eventually, I wasn't weighed down by my pain.

 Slowly but surely my crying slowed. I still cried every day for a while but it became moments. I still carried tissues with me everywhere I went but  I wasn't blowing through the entire box anymore. After a few days I could finally get some sleep at night. It took a couple weeks before I could look at pictures of him and allow myself to cry. Honestly at first, I thought I would never be able to look at pictures of Avi again because I couldn't handle the pain. I thought about deleting every single one so I wouldn't have to look at them, even by accident.

 It took time to move all of his toys, food bowls, and bed because then it was really real. I didn't want to accept it but putting away his belongings was the first time I was acknowledging acceptance. It felt like beytral. Like I was beytraying my love for him by accepting he was gone.

 But eventually I had the strength to face the pain. Eventually, I was able to feel moments of joy again. At first I couldn't imagine feeling happy about anything because how could I rejoice about anything when the world just seemed to be such a sad place to be in, a world without our baby Avi? A world where we found each other but he was taken from us and ripped my heart apart? But as time went on, I gradually began to heal. I was able to hold the pain in my heart but also make space for joy. Slowly the pain I felt was less and less. Which was not to be mistaken with my love for him. It took me a while to accept that just because my pain was healing, that didn't mean my love for him was any less.

 One year ago I never thought I would be able to be happy, love, or even think about Avi without crying until I was too exhausted to cry any more. One year ago I thought I was going to be stuck in grief forever. One year ago, I thought my life was never going to be the same again. And while that's true, my life will never be the same, I am in a much different place. Gradually, I was able to socialize and go out in public. With time I was able to say Avi's name without crying. Overtime I was able to forgive myself and overcome my guilt. As the days went on, I was able to get up in the morning, have a little more energy than the day before, focus again at work, do chores around the house, talk to friends and family, and sleep through the night. Eventually, memories of Avi brought a smile to my face instead of tears. Step by step, day by day, in little small ways one day at a time, I was starting to feel better.

Grief is an intense experience. It's one of those things I wish I could have told myself a year ago that it will be ok. To think back to that time only one year ago and know the pain I was going through it's surprising today to see how far I've come and that I was able to heal. All it took was time. There is no simple solution, no quick fix, just time.

We will love you forever baby. You will always be missed ❤️

Yours Truly,

JBC