I have a theory that you carry grief around inside you, like a bowl full of a cold, thick liquid. Every time something big and sad happens, the bowl cracks open and spills everywhere.
In other words, when you grieve, it’s not about what just happened, it’s about everything that has ever happened. Grieving is the process of mending the bowl – again – and gathering it all up – again – and putting it all back where it belongs. For now.
Visine is helpful.
Knitting is helpful, because it shows you that time is passing. The world is continuing to turn, even if it sometimes feels like it should stop for a little while.
Here is half a sock.
Grief is one situation where a kitty is helpful.
As opposed to “helpful” with “ironic air quotes.”
Like the way that a kitty will “help” unpack the groceries, mostly by stepping on them.
(Yes, I forgot to bring my tote bags to the store. Mea culpa.)
Or the way that a kitty will “help” with photographing a bit of knitting, by sitting on it and looking dapper.
Or whatever it is he thinks he is accomplishing when he wanders around licking the unfinished wood baseboards and window sills. (Thanks?)
I am reminded of Sara’s comment about keeping an “Emergency Backup Cat.” (More info.) I am always diligent about running a backup. And after fifteen years of “just the three of us” it feels pretty weird to be “just the two of us.”
I have a good candidate in mind for Backup Cat. But of course, the shelters are full of wonderful potential Backup Cats and even Backup Kittens, should you feel the urge.
It’s only sensible to have a backup, after all. I don’t know what I would have done without mine.
If I cannot laugh, I cannot cry. If I wall myself away, I cannot feel. The bowl stays cracked, and I am broken forever.
/dance like nobody is watching – hugs/
I think you’re right about the grieving, about it bringing up other things you had already grieved and thought you were over and done with.
You have my sympathy. If you do decide to go for a “backup cat,” I hope you get a really good one.
I am sad with you. Much love to you and Kimble. Your new sock is beautiful.
I am helping you cry. I lost my Gwyndolyn in July and my mom in October.
You are absolutely right: grief is cumulative. Its urgency varies, but it is always there.
(You don’t need to reply; just know that I’m grieving with you.) (if it helps.)
Sweet little kitty. So sorry.
The pathetic little “Thanks?” you threw in there made me laugh through my tears.
I’m so sorry, it’s never easy. One of mine likes to lick plastic bags which I find a little strange.
Oh man, I am so sorry for your loss. That was a great cat. Hope the sibling and you get better.
Oh, I am so sorry. I have lost many beloved pets through the years. The bowl will heal, but the grief is always there. hugs.
I am so sorry. I have two rescue kitties….
The grief fades but the memories remain and the love never dies. Sending hugs!
Hugs and love from Texas. It’s always good to have a backup.
I was just clicking over to say that I am so, so, so sorry, and then you go and make a comment about a backup cat, and I had to bust out laughing.
Still, crappy, crappy news and I am sending bowl-mending vibes your way.
I’m so very sorry… and glad you have one backup cat to help heal you. I think an Emergency Backup Kitten is a wonderful idea!
Hugs.
Hugs to you and Kimble from NJ.
And don’t forget that you have backup chickens, too. Skritches for all of you. Nice sock, BTW.
Erica, I opened this up today to see if you were ok, I know how much it hurts, still miss the love I had to put down 7 yrs ago. I now have 2 dogs and they do help the hurt. This phenonom of licking the base boards and windsills is GODS way of dusting and making us see how useful our animals are!!
Oh Erika, I’m so sorry. Two months back we had to put down my fiance’s golden retriever that he had since he was a child. It was incredibly emotional and nothing will ever fill the hole completely, but we’re getting through it. You’re such a uniquely strong, resilient woman I know you’ll be alright. We all love you and will be missing Brady with you. RIP, big kitty!
Saying goodbye is the hardest part of pet ownership. You have my sincere sympathy.
Susan
Your bowl analogy is perfect. And sometimes (like last Wednesday for me), the bowl cracks for no discernable reason and you just have to deal with the cleanup while wondering WTF.
Your photography helper is remedying a situation we call “Needs moar catbutt.” Everything that enters our house must have a certain level of catbutt applied. I’m not sure why Kira has to sit on All The Things, but I’ve accepted that my limited human mind will never understand.
For a good photo to be great, it must have a kitty in it…
Hugs to you and the sib. And the chickiebirds, too.
I’m sorry, and thinking of you.
Thanks, everyone – you really all mean the world to me.
Beth in STL, I remember reading someone’s comment on some other blog. They had a big open-space minimalist home with very little furniture, just vast expanses of hardwood floor.
Their game was to put a sheet of paper down on the floor – anywhere you like – and the instant you turned around, their cat would be sitting on it, no matter how odd the placement!
My thoughts are with you & Kimble.
Brady & his little wonky tail will live on in the hearts of us all.
^ …oops, forgot to leave my name!
I’m so sorry for your loss! It’s so heartbreaking.
Your theory of grief is beautiful and sad and made me cry. It’s been filed and I’m sure I’ll be quoting it at some point in the future. It speaks to my Zen nature, and reminds me of this great story I heard once. They were talking about karma, and how karma is kind of like carrying fish in a canvas bag. And you carry it with you and carry it with you. And maybe you do, eventually, get rid of all your karma, your fish, and have just an empty bag. But the oils from the fish have marked the bag and left a rainbow. It’s a distinct pattern, unique just to you. And that mark is permanent, and a part of you, and makes you who you are, always.
Big hugs,
~Angela~
I am so, so sorry for your loss. I haven’t read your blog in a few days, and this entry made me cry, for sure. The bowl analogy is really apt, and as a previous commenter mentioned, it does crack all on its own sometimes, leaving us to clean up the mess all over again.
Hope you and your new emergency backup cat are getting along well!
So sorry about your kitty. Love the bowl of grief concept – it is so true, and I have never found anything to explain it until you posted that, so thank you.
Backup cat is, likewise, a brilliant concept.
I think you are right about the grieving process as well. I send lots of hugs from Canada!
It is funny that you mention the “helping” by licking the unfinished baseboards, etc. My mister likes to “help” by licking the condensation from the window every time I shower!
oooooh am so sorry
more hugs from canada
i put down a balinese I had for 16 yrs. it was the worst thing ever
i have right now five smaller dogs and two cats
my wife and i each have a main dog, a backup dog
and then we share the auxilary backup dog for all dogs
we have been saying that for awhile!
i am afraid to backup my cats
they will take over the world
Thanks, Gabes – and I love that you each have a main and backup, and share the auxiliary backup! That’s definitely a “belt and suspenders” set-up!
Oh my goodness! I’m sorry to hear about your sweetheart of a cat. Good plan with the backup cat, and with the measuring of time in knitted stitches, and wishing you much success with the new little bundle of fur coming into your house.