Navigating Grief and Loss
In March my darling cat Olive passed away. She was – and remains – what I love most. Olive was more than just the love of my life. With her I was everything I wasn’t with people: tender, open, loving, affectionate. Olive was the keeper of all my secrets and the only one who truly saw the real me. My constant companion for 19+ years, everyone worried how I would react when this day came to pass, including me. So, when she died, the fear that I would drown in my grief and sorrow was very real.
All relationships ultimately involve loss. Whether in my case that my sweetie girl lived to be 19 ½ and it was simply her time, or a breakup with a partner or friend, loss is a part of life. Some endings are more painful than others, but in everything that we mourn, we should also be able to celebrate all the things that made it so special. Because love is a gift, and it never dies.
It’s been 13 weeks since Olive passed away and while I miss her furry little self like mad, I’ve navigated my loss and grief much better than I anticipated. There are a few reasons why I think I’ve done so well, including:
My grief was shared. Everyone – anyone – who knows me, knows that Olive is my heart. When I shared the news of her passing, my sorrow became theirs. I received an outpouring of love and support from everyone which is especially ironic because without exception, Olive disliked them all. (My darling girl loved only me and everyone else was begrudgingly tolerated, at best.) It took me many years to get to a point where I could allow myself to be vulnerable, even with my closest friends, but having people I could cry to about the loss of my sweet babe was comforting. I didn’t feel alone, and no one ever made me feel like she was just a cat or that my sorrow was unwarranted. My feelings were and continue to be validated.
I can identify and sit with unpleasant emotions. Probably the single best thing that came out of therapy was being able to feel and name my emotions. I was so used to tamping down anything unpleasant that it was always bubbling under the surface, infecting every part of me but somehow never making its way to my awareness. My therapist used to say that if I could just let myself feel whatever I needed to feel, in this case heartache and grief, it would pass through me. The impact would lessen, and I wouldn’t drown in them or be sucked under by the force of my despair as I feared. Loss, for whatever the reason, is incredibly painful to process but I’ve found it to be true. I acknowledge my heartbreak and let myself be sad. If the feelings are so crushing that I can’t shake them, I focus on where I think Olive is now which is in another plane enveloped in love, and nothing hurts her. To know that she is doing well is tremendously reassuring.
I believe I will be with her again. From the moment she stuck her paw out at the adoption center to get my attention, I knew Olive was mine. I am bound to her in this life and every life that follows and know that we will be together again.
Olive surrounds me, literally and figuratively. My darling is everywhere because she lives within me. I have her pictures around the apartment and talk to her almost as much as I did when she was alive. Her remains sit on the coffee table, and I find it very comforting to hold them in my lap when I’m on the couch which is where she was so often curled up with me. Along with her remains I received a pack of seeds that I planted (we couldn’t have plants because they were irresistible to my girl). Watching my Olive sproutlings grow has been surprisingly pleasurable and I feel that she lives through them. And when I go to Central Park, I see and feel her in all the beauty that surrounds me, and the birds and squirrels are her proxies.
I honor the heartbreak. Gratitude will always be what first pops into my head when I think of Olive. She is my gift from the universe and no matter what I do or achieve in this life, there is nothing I will be more grateful for. She is the embodiment of love and that alone deserves my heartache. Each day I look at her beautiful pictures and remind myself of what it was like to stroke her velvet nose and whiskers, kiss her little fluffy belly, wrap myself around her and watch her walk up the stairs to bed. I don’t ever want to forget the physical experience of Olive, even if it means mining my pain for a short time each day.
There is no overstating the significance of Olive in my life; she is the most profound relationship I’ve had and likely ever will. No matter who or what I may love in the future, I’m not the same person I was when Olive found me. She truly opened my heart to love and through all my work in therapy, it’s open to stay, even without her by my side.
If you need help managing your grief after the loss a beloved pet, there are free support resources available. Many tend to be local so you may want to consult with your vet or animal hospital, clergy or house of worship, doctors, hospitals and universities for referrals and available programs or do a search online. You can also visit Pet Loss Help for a listing of local and national organizations providing free support as well as referrals for fee-based services.
P.S. – No kitty was more gorgeous than my Olive and you can see her pictures here. You can also read about her little amazing self in my newsletter.
