I’ve always considered myself pretty lucky when it comes to grief. Naturally, I’ve had people and animals that I have loved dearly die and grieved then, but there was always someone present in my mind having a bigger crisis than my own. I hadn’t lost all of my grandparents in a span of two months, had a miscarriage, or lost my whole family in a car accident. In that respect, I was lucky, and I still am.
However, within the past month, I’ve had to think about grief a lot. On January 2nd, my beloved cat, Charlie, passed away at the age of 5 due to kidney failure caused by lymphosarcoma. Then, on January 21st, my grandfather passed away at 83 of Parkinson’s disease.
Having two of the most important men in my life pass away was quite a slap in the face for my family. It hit my dad the hardest; Charlie was, to him, “the best cat in the world” and having your father die has to be one of the worst losses imaginable. The funeral was the next weekend, and I knew I was going to be there for my dad.
In the church, my seven-year-old cousin, who was still learning about death, asked if Grandpapa was going to the same place as Charlie was. I was struck with a devastating fact: as sad as it was that my grandfather had died, I was still in mourning for my cat. I felt guilty. I wanted to fully grieve my grandfather, but I knew the man I had known in my youth had been gone for a long time due to Parkinson's. Not only did he live far away from me for most of my life, but he was older and we were sadly expecting him to pass on. Charlie, however, lived in my room, cuddled on my bed each day. His death was sudden, and at only five years of age. When put it this way, obviously I would be more upset about Charlie, my best friend and constant companion, dying than I would my grandfather, but I still felt more of a responsibility to be sad about my Grandpapa than Charlie.
The truth is, in society, we feel like human deaths mean more than animal deaths. If that wasn’t true, then people would eat human bodies and bury animal bodies in the ground. It’s a bit more acceptable to mourn a pet, but you’re expected to move on, get a new one, and not mourn them all your life. A human, especially a family member, isn’t considered something you can get over and replace. You will miss them your entire life.
Yet, Charlie isn’t a thing I can replace. He was the most loving, dog-like, beautiful, happy cat in the world and he really, truly was a member of my family. When my grandfather died, I was able to accept that he had moved on to his next step. I was even happy for him to be free from his body, which had been a prison to his soul for too long. Maybe my extended family will hate me for saying this, but somehow, it was easy for me to let go of Grandpapa, but still not Charlie. My heart aches daily and I cry when I see my friends post videos of their cats playing with hair ties. Clearly, I’m sad about both of the deaths that have occurred in my family, but I feel like I’m only in mourning for one.
I’m still conflicted about my emotions surrounding grief, but I know one thing for certain: it’s better to let it out than to keep it all bottled up inside. Whether it’s grief for a parent, an animal, or a houseplant, do not be ashamed of your grief. It is only when you fully accept your grief that healing can begin. Everybody grieves differently, and people will be there for you. My whole family is healing for different reasons at different rates, and we will all be there for each other we need it.
