Last week, I found my little gray man
underneath my husband's car. Little gray man is what I called one of our 2 male resident cats, from the time we adopted him as a kitten 8 years ago. My younger step-daughter had naming rights and dubbed him Jasper. He was the runt of the litter and covered in silky gray hair, except for 2 white front paws.
He wasn't sick. In fact, he was totally healthy and was outside, where he loved to be. When I found his body, it looked as if he had just fallen asleep.
When I realized that he died, I could feel in my heart a thousand tiny strands of love snapping apart. I could hear the walls of my every day life crashing down. I could sense a huge rug being pulled out from under me, toppling me over with nothing to grab onto.
This is grief. It hurts like nothing else. It splits us wide open.
Fast forward a week, and one of my dear friends called yesterday to tell me that her dog had just died suddenly. I gathered a box of tissues and Rescue Remedy went to her house and sat for awhile with her and her son. We talked about grieving and losing those we loved.
Her son told us about a talk he'd had with a friend. His friend asked him why he'd get a dog knowing that the dog would one day die and that he'd be heartbroken. He replied, "Why would you give up all the love a dog brings into your life just to avoid the pain when it dies?"
I would never forgo the love. Even though it means riding the waves of grief. What you think?