Last week our beautiful 19 year old Toffee cat suddenly lost the ability to stand up. It came as out of the blue as events can for a cat that old and the vet diagnosed a likely brain tumour. There wasn’t really a decision to be made and we had to say goodbye.
This week has been really odd. I’ve been quite ill the last couple of weeks with a horrible bout of what was probably Covid and am now in that post virus fatigue state. My energy runs out quickly so I have to use it sparingly. In addition to all of this we finally got our building work finished so we can move back downstairs again. It looks lovely but everything is different now.
There is a space where we hold our loss. We are learning just how much this house revolved around the increasing needs of a geriatric cat. Has he eaten? Has he been injected with insulin? Does he seem frail? And it has made me think a lot about life and losing things. Life happens slowly and then quickly. Things change in the blink of an eye. Our planners are full of plans and then everything is dropped because life happens.
Of course I’ve lost important things before so I’m no stranger to loss. My father died when I was just fifteen so I learned those lessons about life being short and sometimes fragile very early on. Yet this is another timely reminder.
I’m on a deadline for another book and have spent my days endlessly striving, so the combination of my own illness and grief have knocked me off track. What’s the point in all that striving anyway? We have such limited heartbeats and what are we spending them on?
But inside the loss and my ongoing convalescence lies a valuable life lesson. We cannot always go quickly. Sometimes we have to slow right down and sit with our own sadness. I miss my little writing buddy who would curl up and let me write uninterrupted only until he required something from me. I miss rushing around hitting deadlines and having the energy to make endless plans for new adventures. It will probably come back and sooner rather than later but it’s not available right now.
Right now I can only go slowly and feel sad at times. I’ve cancelled so many plans lately so that I can focus on getting better and allowing a new way of living to take shape.
Sometimes life requires a change of direction and maybe this is that time. Summer is a good time for reflection while the days are long. So here I am about to begin writing a scene and unsure where the future is leading me.
Everything is different now.
Jxx
I am so, sorry, dear Julie. Speaking as one who does the opposite by instinct and is trying to remedy this, it seems to me that you are being very wise. Taking time to sit with your sorrow, to be slow and gentle with your heart and self sounds absolutely wise and right. xx
Oh goodness. I’m sorry. Losing a precious pet is heartbreaking and I know when I have experienced this how many times we look in those familiar spaces for them. But slow is good at times. I’m not sure if you have read Katherine May’s book called Wintering. It is a wonderful book to read in the Winter but she also describes how we go through periods of Winter in our lives whatever the season. If you have the capacity to read it’s one I’d recommend. And if not I hope you can relax into things that being comfort.