The first couple of days this week were a blur of absolute grief – shoulder-shaking sobs over my sweet kitty girl who is gone. I don’t remember being this sad when our other pets died, although I’m pretty sure I was.

I have a good friend whose daughter passed away in her sleep when she was about 5 … I know my loss is in no way equivalent to the absolute grief she and her husband felt. Knowing the deep sadness I felt after my pet passed on, I just don’t know how a parent could survive the loss of a child. Devastation can’t come close to describing the pain they must feel.

We followed all the rules – kept busy … went out to Top Golf (actually a very fun experience, when you’re not busy wiping tears away), installed a drip irrigation system on the patio, went bowling (can’t cry with an 11 pound ball in your hand!), and I did get some sewing done (a disaster worthy of its own post).

It’s true what they say about busyness, it keeps your mind off of things so your heart can begin to heal. And three days of constant activity seemed to get me over the worst of what truly felt like agony on Monday. By Wednesday, I was able to look at her photos without buckets of tears, and could mention her name without uttering a sob. Now it’s time to focus on the three other G’s in my life (my husband and our two other cats).

I know Kappler’s five stages of grief (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance) but for me, there was a step missing – the “big messy cry” step.

Emelyn Story Tomba (Cimitero Acattolico Roma)” by LuciusCommonsOwn work. Licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.

I’m not much of a boo-hoo’er. I’m  like my English grandmother – stiff upper lip and all that … I can probably count on my fingers the number of times I’ve cried in the last 2 decades, and that includes twice being brought to angry tears by bosses who were absolute jerks (oh, the stories I could tell if I wasn’t under a confidentiality agreement!). That’s a testament to a good husband who has never given me reason to cry, but it’s also how I naturally respond to bad or sad news. “Deep breath, chin up, find something useful to do.” So when I cry it’s usually a pretty big, impactful event. This one was huge … my eyes were puffy for a good 24 hours. Ugh.

Coming up on a new weekend I feel pretty much “fine”. It doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten, but the light is shining in again.


7 thoughts on “Every day more light seeps in

  1. Crying is being busy and doing something useful, it’s being busy healing. I cry all the time – usually while doing something else! The English stiff upper lip doesn’t have to be a dry upper lip! You can keep calm and carry on while balling your eyes out. It’s good for you. So sorry for your loss.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I am so very sorry to hear that you lost your sweet kitty girl. I experienced the same type of shoulder shaking sobs when I lost my dear Lucca just over two weeks ago. I am currently doing all I can to stay busy. My older daughter paid me a surprise visit last week in an effort to help me start to heal. The healing is slow to come but I think that with time it will come. Keep working at it as will I.

    Liked by 1 person

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