Writing about death is never easy. -- Boy there's an understatement. This isn't really about death, though; it's about grief. Grief over losing a loved one has many different shades and shapes. It changes over time, even a relatively brief period of time like within a day or week. I can't believe it's been over a month now, but I lost Max on November 18. I loved him more wholly, more deeply, and more purely than I think I have ever (I'm allowed to say 'ever' in middle age!) loved any person, and he loved me right back, without reserve, with flair and loyalty and abandon, in fact.
One friend suggested that I write down all the nicknames I had for him. Maximilian, Maxwell, Cutest Boy in the Land, Slut for Affection, Sweet Prince, Panther, Bubula, Little Booboo, 'Yo Boo Boo (in Yogi Bear's voice). Then there are the nicknames other people had for him, which I sometimes used, too. Brenda called him Mooksila, Kate called him Beauteous Maximus, and Owen and Atticus called him Maxie.
I've posted a picture on this blog, use another one for the background on my computer, yet another on the background of my phone. I've appreciated the sympathy cards and donations made in his name to animal rescue groups. I've put signatures at the bottom of my emails in memory of him. One, from Hamlet, where I got one of his nicknames: "Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest." This is where Horatio says good bye to a dying Hamlet. I actually mouthed these words to him as he lay in my arms. Ok, he wasn't laying, he was fighting mad because he'd just had an IV stuck in, and I was tightly holding his squirming body. The other signature quote is also Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet: "Take him and cut him out in little stars,/And he will make the face of heaven so fine,/That all the world will be in love with night/And pay no worship to the garish sun." I love Shakespeare.
So what else is there to do to deal with one's grief? Nothing really, but just to feel it when it comes. And it comes. Unexpectedly, at times.
The Kidney Bean
Chicago, IL August 2008
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About Me
- Gilly
- I think my interests and favorites say a lot. I like diverse genres of films, books, and music. As long at they hit the perfect storm and move me in some way (sometimes only intellectually), then I'm in.
4 comments:
Max was lucky to have you for an owner.
From one animal lover to the other, I know how hard it is to lose them. Over time it gets easier, but you still miss them.
Now, dont forget to make a list of all the things you can remember about him. Little stories, funny things he did, etc. :)
Hang in there Gilly!
- In the empty spaces where the cat was, that hurt physically. Cat is part of me. Mornings since, I break into uncontrollable sobbing and crying when I remember [where] she used to be—sit—move, etc. - William S. Burroughs (Last Words)
Max was so very lucky to have you and you were very lucky to have Max. The pain fades with time but the memories stay.
Max was such a great cat! He was that way because of you though. Don't forget that! Try to find memories of Max in everyday life and those will carry you through. Give Iris a big hug from me; she must miss him, too. xoxo
A POEM FOR THE GRIEVING...
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die...
-Anonymous
In my experience, grief does have its way with us, when and how it wants to. In a way that's the gift of it--the opportunity to connect to something true inside, even though it's painful. Max was an extraordinary little being. I keep thinking of him in all his perfect catness and of the way you loved each other. Thank god for him.
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