Learning grief’s lessons

Dear Readers,

I feel self-indulgent telling you about my personal experiences again. There are many ways grief surrounds all of us on a personal, national and global scale. I hope something I say relates to you, opens a door or helps you cope with whatever way grief touches you now.

Last week, I shared the news of my husband’s passing in late December. Yesterday, I had to say goodbye to my beloved cat, Jitters, who has been my emotional support cat for 13 years.

Here is what happened.

My nephew was staying with me over the holidays. He said, “It looks like Jitters’ jaw is a little crooked.” I looked, but I saw as one who is accustomed to seeing something every day. “Oh, it’s nothing,” I replied.”That is just the way it looks because of the black fur around his mouth.”

Well, it definitely was something. Less than a week later, my cat began to drip blood from his mouth. A visit to the veterinarian confirmed my worst fear — Jitters had a deadly malignant tumor in his jaw that would rapidly progress. The kindly vet suggested I take him home and enjoy what time he had left. I resolved to do that. Then I second-guessed myself and made an appointment for him with a veterinary oncologist. He would not live to make the appointment. He deteriorated so rapidly, I called in a veterinarian who came to my home and helped him over the rainbow bridge, wrapped in a blanket in my arms.

Supportive and brave friends stood on either side of me with hands on my shoulders as tears streamed down my face. His passing was calm and peaceful after several days of suffering. As he let go, so could I. The sadness at the loss is there, but peace has come alongside it.

Here are a few things I am learning from my experiences.

• Grief cracks you open. Let it. Allowing myself to be vulnerable is a lesson I have had to learn over and over as a “helper” myself. Without vulnerability, the warmth and care of others cannot penetrate to your places of pain. You rob yourself of the gifts that others are eager to give.
• You do not have to have it all together. A tear-stained face, messy hair or a pile of laundry is not off-putting to those who care. Helpers come to help you, not to admire how “strong” you are.
• Don’t be afraid to say “no thanks.” I have cancelled more events and social obligations in the last weeks than I have in years. I am an extrovert, but not right now. I have let myself feel the need for quiet, for space and for less external stimulation. There is too much going on inside to process and that is where my energies are going.
• You don’t have to listen to the experiences of others. People are very well-meaning and want to offer condolences. However, hearing about their losses compounds your loss, and is not comforting. Feel free to say something like, “Thank you for your concern but I can’t hear that right now.”
• Feelings will be a mixture. Let the mix percolate. Thoughts and feelings will be all over the place and will include anger and relief in addition to the sadness. Try not to judge them.
• Listen to your body. Give it what it needs. A wise friend asked me where in my body was my grief settling. When I left the hospital after my husband passed, every ounce of my body hurt from my hair follicles to my toes. I had to rest. Knowing my cat would soon pass, my stomach knotted up and my eyes felt heavy. My breathing constricted. I had to remind myself and be reminded to breathe. Coming back to your breath is the easiest gift to give yourself.

The vet could not come to my house until the late afternoon. I had to get through the day. I remembered the joy of seeing the musical “Cats” in the early 1980s and playing the soundtrack over and over. I looked up how the musical ended to remember the song’s words and the feelings it evoked.

All the cats are at the Jellicle Ball. An elderly and broken Grizabella returns and is finally accepted back into the tribe. Their leader, Old Deuteronomy, chooses Grizabella to be the cat to ascend to the “heavyside layer,” the place where cats go to be restored and reborn.

In a very dramatic fashion, Old Deuteronomy and Grizabella are raised up as all the cats sing on repeat:

“Up, up, up, passed the Russell hotel (a real London landmark,)

up, up, up to the Heavyside layer.”-Andrew Lloyd Webber

Jitters was chosen to go. I know he will enjoy being honored in the Heavyside layer for being such a good cat.