Grief and Loss

This is the hardest thing I have written. It was inspired by the death of a cherished family member, our cat, Tiki. She was like a dog and followed us from room to room, slept under my husband’s chin, and traveled with us in our motor home to the Grand Canyon. She was a very special member of our household, she healed heart wounds, refused to allow arguments to take place, comforted us in sorrow, and always understood what we needed. I know many people think that she was just a cat, but those who have had an extra special relationship with an animal know that they are loved as a family member. The death of Tiki was totally unexpected. We went to bed one Friday night and when I got up Saturday morning, she was lying on the floor near her water, catatonic. We took her to the vet on Monday and learned she had a vertebra that had worked loose and pinched off her spinal cord. She was in pain and her eyes just stared fixated on nothing. Our hearts were broken.

Yesterday, we lost our female Akita. We had a bonded pair of siblings (both spayed and neutered) who had never been separated. Beta had a blood clot in her brain that caused extreme vertigo and an inability to walk. We used a towel to support her so she could use the bathroom. Our vet came out to my van and put her to sleep there, with us holding her. Now her brother is all alone. He is blind and just wanders around trying to find her. He keeps going to the gate waiting for her to return. His grief is every bit as palpable as ours. Both are missed more than I can express

I do not mean to trivialize the death of human loved ones and I am fully aware of the difference, but the grief I feel for our dog and cat is just as deep as the grief I felt for my father, my husband’s father, my mother, my aunt, and three of our best friends in the past 5 years. And we have two other friends undergoing cancer treatment. It is different, but it still leaves an aching empty place inside my heart. I realize that the suffering endured by those who lose a spouse or parent experience a deeper pang of grief, but grief is grief, regardless of the source.

Grief is awful. We all take our own paths and I tend to push mine down and distract myself in order not to feel the pain. Some people can recover in only a few days and some may take a few years. Some, like me, bury it down inside to avoid the pain and then have it turn up later as depression. That is dealing with it without dealing with it. I wish I could cry it out but something always holds me back, even though I know that crying is a very good way to recover. Grieving and crying does not last forever. At some point, the tears will dry up except for special moments, holidays, etc. Odors/aromas can also trigger other bouts of grief. There is an old saying that time heals all wounds but that is only partially true, at least in my experience. Some wounds are so deep that they scab over but under certain circumstances the wound can reopen and grief for that very, very special loved-one can once again overwhelm me. I experience grief as a very profound sadness and I have a difficult time expressing that sadness in tears. The sorrow I feel is always in my mind no matter what I am doing. I admire those who can grieve openly and let it out as much as possible.

One thing that makes grieving easier for me to bury deep inside myself is my sense of spirituality. I do believe our spiritual essence, our soul, if you will, does continue to exist and therefore the loved one is not gone forever. The body is gone, but the spirit lives on within our hearts. Yet, still I experience the sadness, even knowing the loved one lives on inside me. I miss the warmth, the hugs, the comforting words that are shared on a day-to-day basis.

Another type of grieving is anticipatory grief. This is what people feel when their loved one has MSA or other fatal diseases similar to this. The grieving starts while the loved one is still alive and it hurts to watch the beloved slowly die. I believe this situation makes the grieving process much more difficult than in a less protracted illness.

During the month of October, the Shy-Drager online support group suffered through an inordinate number of deaths of loved ones. The grief shared by so many for so many was heart-felt and the love, empathy, and compassion shown by people who have never met each other was truly inspiring. What a wonderful group of people who give their time and energy providing support and comfort for others in need, even as they are also in need. Immediately following the announcement of a death, messages pour in for support to the caregiver and family. This kind of support is, I feel, rare. Most of us have never met and probably never will meet, yet we know each other better than many life-long friends. We pour out our hearts at this site; we ask for help and advice; we ask for information from the caregivers who have been there to assist others long after their loved ones have passed on. In one request for help, a desperate plea, within 10 minutes over 12 individuals responded with their support. I am so glad my neurologist suggested this group as a source of information and support. MSA is a horrible disease, but life can still be lived with modifications given physical limitations. My deep-felt thanks go to each and every member for the comfort they each provide.