Grief is a Stray Cat
that keeps walking into your bedroom
I hold her up on my lap— I kiss her. I stroke her furry white head, those silver whiskers grazing my hands. How gentle grief can be, sometimes. Like a longing for rain. On a long summer night when you’re staring out of your window, watching a crow deepen into the night. I often wish I could disappear like that. Whoof.
Time feels like someone dropped a plough on my shoulders, & told me to run. I wish time felt like stones slipping through sand-slivers instead.
Grief is a stray cat that keeps loitering in & out of your house. Keep your door ajar. Always.
Like grief: a cat will teach you how to love. A cat teaches you how to love because she teaches you how to wait. Wait on the silk blue edges of your bed for some life to walk in. Mewing & mewing for milk. Wanting to be stroked.
Like a cat, grief keeps her own time. You may bake her a cake. Keep a bowl of fruit ready. Even keep her comb & teddy bear on your lap. But there’s no telling when (or from what door) she’ll spring in. To surprise you. Rushing towards your room. Just when you were choked— & about to catch your breath.
Like a cat, grief keeps her own time. She will return only when she wants. But she will also teach you to lean into the heart of your waiting. Pay attention to the now.
Maybe this is what it is. When you’ve lived with her enough: grief is like a stray cat. She teaches you how to tend to someone you love— not knowing when they may return. If they may return at all.
I love your comparison of grief to a stray cat. That's brilliant, Trivarna, and it works.
Thank you!
This is an incredible post, Trivarna! The title, and your metaphors have been following me around all day...
We have a stray cat coming to us on and off. She has already gifted us with three kittens (on 2 different occasions) over the years, and we have found homes for them. She is impossible to catch, otherwise we would have taken her to the vet to end her reproductive cycles.
She is all black, very shy, moves like a shadow, and her eyes are green. We've been thinking about a name for her. Your post makes me realise that 'Grief' suits her very well. Her mewing sounds sad and pitiful. (she definitely doesn't want to be stroked though). The Portuguese version 'Pena' would suit her (we are in Portugal, and it's a local village cat). Pena has several meanings, including grief, sorrow, and feather.
We never know when or if she returns, or where she goes when she disappears...