Grief
9 inches of snow on the ground
The intensity of my grief over Newt's passing still grips me.
I can't seem to stop crying. I don't mean that I am constantly weeping, but several times a day the memories flood over me and I find tears runing down my face. There is a good cry in me that need to come out but there is no place for me to do it. Bawling my eyes out at work is problematic. I am racked with sobs driving to and from town but have to maintain some measure of control for safety reasons. As for letting loose at home--well--
The other day I was out in the shop holding Johnny when the memories grew too intense and I started crying. Almost immediately, I was surrounded by sympathetic, concerned cats. It was heart-warming in its way but reminded me that the cats are sensitive to my moods. I don't want to distress them with my grief.
I joined a Yahoo pet loss support group last week but when I logged in to talk about all this, I found them embroiled in a flame-war regarding religion. So that wasn't a safe place to expose my raw emotions.
I keep thinking of how limp she in my arms at the end. How her resolute little heart wouldn't stop beating but kept ticking away like a pulsar in the heart of a black hole. Her body was so weary but her valiant spirit kept on.
The little twitch of her whiskers when her heart finally stopped...
It sounds morbid but it was hard for me to relinquish her body. I know it is just the husk of her earthly form. I know she is gone. But even after I had her wrapped and zipped in the body bag, I found myself holding the bundle, drawing some comfort from the familiar shape of her curled form in my hands. Such a precious, loved little package she made--so many memories and so much grief wrapped up in that parcel.
Only when the faint but unmistakeable odor of decay became evident could I bring myself to put her outside in the shed where the cold will keep her until we can bury her properly.
***
I caught the end of an announcement on the radio this morning about a pet loss support group meeting this evening. I just have to find out where. That seems like it could be the place where I can finally abandon myself to my sorrow.
The intensity of my grief over Newt's passing still grips me.
I can't seem to stop crying. I don't mean that I am constantly weeping, but several times a day the memories flood over me and I find tears runing down my face. There is a good cry in me that need to come out but there is no place for me to do it. Bawling my eyes out at work is problematic. I am racked with sobs driving to and from town but have to maintain some measure of control for safety reasons. As for letting loose at home--well--
The other day I was out in the shop holding Johnny when the memories grew too intense and I started crying. Almost immediately, I was surrounded by sympathetic, concerned cats. It was heart-warming in its way but reminded me that the cats are sensitive to my moods. I don't want to distress them with my grief.
I joined a Yahoo pet loss support group last week but when I logged in to talk about all this, I found them embroiled in a flame-war regarding religion. So that wasn't a safe place to expose my raw emotions.
I keep thinking of how limp she in my arms at the end. How her resolute little heart wouldn't stop beating but kept ticking away like a pulsar in the heart of a black hole. Her body was so weary but her valiant spirit kept on.
The little twitch of her whiskers when her heart finally stopped...
It sounds morbid but it was hard for me to relinquish her body. I know it is just the husk of her earthly form. I know she is gone. But even after I had her wrapped and zipped in the body bag, I found myself holding the bundle, drawing some comfort from the familiar shape of her curled form in my hands. Such a precious, loved little package she made--so many memories and so much grief wrapped up in that parcel.
Only when the faint but unmistakeable odor of decay became evident could I bring myself to put her outside in the shed where the cold will keep her until we can bury her properly.
***
I caught the end of an announcement on the radio this morning about a pet loss support group meeting this evening. I just have to find out where. That seems like it could be the place where I can finally abandon myself to my sorrow.
