After twenty-four years living with the same pair of cats, I have now discovered a new sound: the sound you hear when you turn off all the lights at night, and there are no cats walking across the floor.
It’s just about the worst sound I’ve ever heard.
I know there are people out there who don’t understand this grief I’m carrying around right now. Jazz was a cat, after all. It’s not like she was a human child. Imagine, I tell those people, that you had no human children, and that your cat was the creature you poured all your love and caring into, the creature who gave that love and caring right back to you, and now she’s gone. Imagine how you’d feel then. Not the same, they say. Not the same at all.
But this is all I’ve ever known.
If you read the post about how Jazz came into my life, you may remember that I was worried that when she left me, I wouldn’t know how to take care of myself. It’s been three weeks and a day now, and the worry has grown and escalated to the point that I have been living in a state of paralysed terror for days. I haven’t had the energy to do much more than clutch my stuffed rabbit to my chest and cry, hide in the washroom and cry, ride the bus home at the end of the day and cry. I am at the point of wanting to hurt myself just to numb the grief, and more than once I have seriously considered just walking into a busy intersection with my head down. Jazz was one of the things tying me to this world, and I am starting to drift without her anchoring me here.
In some ways, Jazz was too much of an anchor. I haven’t been on a vacation in years, because of the stress my absence always put on her. I haven’t done as much quilting as I might have liked to, because it meant moving her comfortable little bed out of position and inconveniencing her for a few hours. I haven’t read much fiction lately, because she needed to be petted more than I needed to read. Suddenly, all of those restrictions have fallen away. Which means that for the first time in my adult life, I can do whatever I want. There is literally no obstacle between me and any dream I may want to pursue.
If I am brutally honest with myself, I know that it’s not just the loneliness that has me paralyzed; it’s the freedom. Because I don’t know who I’m supposed to be, now that I don’t have her to care for.
I could be the artist I’ve always wanted to be: I have the time, the space, the materials. I could be (more of) a writer. I could participate in community activities. I could stay out late without worrying about having to come home to feed a creature who depends on me.
Or I could get another cat. Hold warmth in my arms again, see a silhouette in the window again, feel needed again.
We always ask children what they want to be when they grow up. But we never think that one day we’ll have to turn to ourselves and say, You’re grown up now. Who do you want to be?
Who do I want to be? I don’t know how to answer that right now. The sound of no cats walking across the floor is so loud, I can’t even think.
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Walking through the valley of grief is never easy for any of us. Hopefully, in time you will be able to focus on feeling thankful for the wonderful years you had with Jazz instead of focusing on the sadness in your life now that she is gone. Looking for the good and feeling thankful for all that is good in our lives is often the doorway through to happiness and contentment once again. Try to think of at least 3 things every day for which you are thankful, and I find it helps to write them down either in a journal or on a piece of paper that goes into a thankful jar (do you still have it?). After a while you will realize that you have many blessings to be thankful for that help to give meaning and purpose to your life.
Sending you much love and hugs! Aunt Vicky
Think of it this way… the beginning of a new chapter, a voyage of discovery, finishing things left undone while you looked after Jazz… and Oh yes! .. that new sound!! Hear the creative energy coming into your life, and the timing is just right! Spring! New life. New energy. New creativity. You have it all within you. Now let it blossom forth!