I've got one of those awful post-cry headaches that no amount of pain reliever will help. Today I had to have our wonderful little cat, who we've had for 10 years, put to sleep. It was time, and it was the right decision, but boy, it hurts.
Why am I writing about the death of my cat on a blog about the death of my son? Well, I'm just wondering...anyone else out there find that every subsequent loss, after the loss of your child(ren), is somehow still about your child? I'm very sad about our cat, but I found myself crying over my cat at the vet's, telling him I'm sorry, and that I will miss him, but in many ways, I'm telling Ben I miss him, telling Ben I'm sorry. I don't know how to separate the grief for my son from the grief for my cat. I remember when my dear friend Elizabeth died two years ago - not unexpectedly, after a long battle with cancer - and I felt like I couldn't really grieve for her because I was still grieving for Ben. And that all my tears, for the rest of my life, will be for him, no matter who I've lost.
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I think you've put it very well. Loss evokes loss. It's like when you pluck one string of a musical instrument and another string, one that you haven't plucked, begins to vibrate as well. You hear the sound of both strings, not just one that's actually been touched.
I don't know how you would seperate your grief. Grief is grief and it affects you the same, no matter who or what died. Even though it was your cat that died, you loved it and it was special to you as was Ben. I am so sorry for your loss.
I don't know how you would seperate your grief. Grief is grief and it affects you the same, no matter who or what died. Even though it was your cat that died, you loved it and it was special to you as was Ben. I am so sorry for your loss.
Oh Ginny, I'm so very sorry.
Niobe put it beautifully...
As you probably remember, I had to put my fifteen-year-old cat to sleep recently, nearly on the one-year anniversary of having to do that for his sister. I relived the loss of them both. And yes, having to make that decision hurts, hurts, hurts, even when you know you've done the right thing for them.
To honor our beloved cats, my husband and I went out and adopted shelter kittens. It made life a little sweeter to know we've done something to help those who need our support, love and care. It's like offering a little bit of light to the world.
And you're writing a book that will offer that light, too.
Thank you for all you do.
*HUGS*
Is this strange? My son was stillborn a year and a half ago, and it gives me comfort that I will grieve for him every time I grieve for someone else: it's something that I will go through with him. Grief conjures him up more solidly than anything else does.
I think that is normal. My grief of the loss of our son is triggered with every failed cycle as well. Some times the grief is so strong that I need to tease out each peace and notice them separately. All together it is too overwhelming.
I'm sorry you lost your cat. And your son.
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