Grief

Today has been a rather difficult day. Our 12 year old cat Anakin passed away this morning of heart failure. To say that I am devastated is to put it lightly. It has taken all day for me to stop crying. Anakin was a huge part of our lives and he will be greatly missed.

As I returned home from the vet this morning, my immediate response was to clean up after him, to clean the house, and go to work. Wisely my husband asked me to stay home with him. This probably was just as much for him as it was for me. The pain of this loss is palpable for both of us.

As he got ready for bed, since he works third shift, I climbed in next to him. We just laid there in silence for a while and then our two other cats joined us. As I lay there toggling between awake and sleep, tears constantly flowing, I realized it was exactly what I needed.

My nature is to do things to get up- to move- and maybe in my own way, I think that it will make the pain go away. The lesson for me in all of this is that I chose the walk through my grief. Rather than stuff the emotion down and mindlessly walk through my day, I allowed myself to sit in my grief.

There are many stages of grief. While I am still firmly planted in sadness, anger keeps rearing her fiery head. As I talked this through with a dear friend, I shared with her that I wanted to feel my anger but not be my anger. Anger makes me want to throw everything away that reminds me of Anakin. That action can help numb the pain but I see it for what it is. It confirms for me how deep and sincere this loss is.

What I'm trying to say is that sometimes you don't have to do the thing. Sometimes it's okay to enjoy the quiet, enjoy the peace, experience your feelings, and maybe through all of that, you really are doing something.

You may be creating some openness in your heart and your spirit. You may be finding a space of acceptance for what life is.

Sometimes doing nothing really is doing the thing.