Years ago, I posed our cat Naomi in a photo to promote my novels. In the days before AI slop, cats were a good way to get attention on the Internet.
Yesterday, Naomi died at age 18. She had developed a series of seizures and was too old and frail to endure testing and treatment. We had to make the difficult decision to put her to sleep. We were with her at the end.
Naomi is the third of our four cats to pass away. Oscar died suddenly on Christmas Day 2023. We had to put Gretel to sleep the following year. It doesn’t get easier, but each loss clearly is different. Oscar was a shock. Gretel filled us with sadness. But after Naomi, I was filled with peace. I was grateful for the time we had with her, and she wasn’t suffering anymore.
The same is true about grieving for people.
This month marks the 40th anniversary of my dad’s death. At the time, I dealt with it through dark humor. I convinced myself it was what Dad would have wanted, and it was a legitimate way of coping with loss. Part of it was a continuation of the shuttle jokes that were still going around seven months after the Challenger disaster.
Years later, I realized the painful truth: I joked about Dad’s death because I didn’t feel anything at all. He wasn’t present in my life, and he died just as I was starting to know him better. It didn’t have the emotional wallop of Mom’s death six years later because he didn’t make as much of an impact on me when he was alive. He was as much of a stranger to me as Christa McAuliffe.
Every grief is different because every person or pet we lose is different. Some are the core of our existence. Some just pass through. Sometimes, we are grateful for the time we’ve spent with them. Sometimes, we mourn for what we’ve could have had if they were with us longer. Some griefs pass in hours. Others last the rest of our lives.
Grief reminds us that the only real legacy we have is the memories of us in those we’ve left behind. I worked to be a good father and grandfather because I didn’t want to leave my children and granddaughter empty when I died, as my dad did to me.
Naomi, just like our other pets and loved ones, will always be with us because of the memories they created. May we all strive to create good memories for the people we love and make a positive impact on the world.
This is a powerful post on many levels. Like you, I didn’t know my dad. I knew of him, but that is quite different. I felt grief at my four sisters’ deaths. And even more devastating was the death of my son. You are correct, not all grief is the same, and because of that, the impact of grief varies. Nice post, Matthew.
Thank you for your kind words. I’m sorry about you losing your loved ones, especially your son.