Gone But Not Forgotten

I do a beginning of the year slideshow each year to introduce myself and my rules to my students. 

 

I tell about my family, my hobbies, and my summer and I answer questions as they arise. 

 

Ever since starting this tradition a few years ago, I have introduced Annie as my cat. 

 

The kids have always ooohed and ahed at her beauty and then they proceeded to tell me about their pets. Inevitably, someone says that they used to have a pet but that something happened to it, and then that starts the stories of pets dying. And then someone usually gets sad. And ever so often, someone bursts into tears.

 

So I had a dilemma on Friday when I opened my slideshow for its annual update. 

 

Did I leave Annie’s picture and count her as my pet or did I delete Annie’s picture because of her unexpected passing on Thursday?

 

I didn’t want to erase her, but I also didn’t want to feel a stab of pain looking at her and knowing that she wasn’t here.

 

And I certainly didn’t want to intentionally explain that she got sick and that I had to put her down because of the aforementioned stories and tears.  

 

In the end, I took out her picture and simply said that I have one cat, Siggy Ray. 

 

I’ve had some of my students since kindergarten, so if they’ve paid attention over the past many years, then they should know that Annie is missing. 

 

So I’m prepared to be asked about her. I’m prepared to explain that she got sick and died. I’m prepared to accept that there may be a catch in my voice and that I may have to take a moment to pull myself together. And I’m prepared to put the car backs on the track after they derail!

 

But that doesn’t mean that it’s going to be easy.

 

I’m going to see the slide five times a day for five days and be reminded that she’s not with me anymore.

 

And I’m going to miss her even more in those moments than I do now. 

 

Grief demands that it be felt, but grief challenges us to keep going.

 

So I will keep going.

 

Moving forward does not mean erasing a life.

 

Moving forward means taking the memories of what was and carrying their good parts into what will be.

 

And so that’s what I will do.

 

I will frame Annie’s paw print and picture and I will remember. 

 

She was not a perfect cat. But because she was Annie Mae. She was my cat. And I loved her. And love doesn’t die as easily as taking down a picture from a slideshow. 

 

Remember: 

Love and goodness live on. 

Seen and unseen. 

No matter what your grief today. 

 

Amen.  

Annie Mae is Very Sick

 

Annie Mae is very sick. 

She’s been to the vet twice in two weeks,

And this is after avoiding the vet for years. 

She had a fever and a UTI and 

She’s had medicine and fluids and time to heal. 

But she’s not getting any better. 

She won’t stretch. 

She won’t lay in her side. 

She’s not able to groom herself. 

She’s not able to jump. 

She’s walking weird. 

She’s lost weight. 

She’s barely eating and drinking. 

She’s barely going to the bathroom. 

She’s not going outside anymore. 

She’s not complaining. 

But she’s in pain.

And I am so very sad. 

 

Annie Mae came to us five years ago. 

I’ll never forget looking out the window and seeing her for the first time. 

We locked eyes and she meowed. 

And in that moment, I became her person and she became my cat. 

 

I have loved her something fierce. 

She’s never been sweet and cuddly, 

In fact she’s been quite feisty and spicy, 

But she would jump on my bed and bump her head into my hand and on my leg and turn circles in happiness  and make biscuits with glee until she would lay down right next to me and sleep. 

 

She would let me pet her and brush her and love on her and tell her her baby story until she was tired of it all and then she’d whap me. 

 

She would look forward to me coming home every day 

So that she could sit beside me and receive back scratches 

While I worked on my daily blackout poem. 

She may have been sleeping before my arrival—

And she had lots of good sleeping spots—

But as soon as she heard the chair creak, 

She would come sit with me. 

 

She’d tell my dad what to do—

When to feed her, 

When to let her out,

When to let her in, 

When she wanted pets. 

 

She even got my mom talking to her and looking after her. 

 

She had that way about her.

 

And her brother loved picking fights with her, 

Although she’d always win. 

 

But all that’s shifted in the past few weeks. 

And unless something drastically changes, 

I fear we may have to say goodbye to Annie Mae sooner than later. 

 

I couldn’t sleep so I stayed up late last night trying to imagine life without her—

Crying—

Grieving—

Trying to wrap my mind around it all—

Writing poems to help me process: 

 

It happened so fast. 

She was fine. Then she wasn’t. 

My sweet, feisty girl. 

 

—

 

I’ll open the attic door. 

And you’ll run inside to play. 

Pink insulation on your face. 

This time I won’t worry. 

 

—

 

You’re supposed to be in the hall.

Stretched out, showing your trap belly. 

And if I come near you, 

You scratch me. 

Because that’s what you do. 

 

—

 

He knows something’s wrong 

What do I tell your brother 

He’s looking for you 

 

—

 

Losing a pet is losing part of your heart. 

Pets are some of God’s greatest gifts 

But my goodness does it hurt when we have to say goodbye. 

 

I lay here trembling 

With quivering breath

Saltwater covered cheeks 

Maybe there’s a miracle 

Or maybe there’s not. 

 

Either way, 

Life will go on. 

It’s just that sometimes

It is so very hard.

On Sam's Birthday

 

Today is St. Patrick’s Day.

Today is also Baby Sam‘s birthday.

Baby Sam was born 11 years ago. 

He, like all babies, had black poop when he pooped for the first time. 

I didn’t know this was the norm, 

So I was shocked.  

Sam’s mom, A, through her post birth pains, 

Laughed at me. 

 

Baby Sam lived a good life. 

He was well-loved by his Mama, Papa, and big sister,

As well as his extended family and friends. 

Baby Sam died when he was just six months old.

His life and death made a huge impact on all who knew him, 

Not the least of which was me. 

 

There are a lot of things we will never understand in life,

Sudden Infant death syndrome being one of them.

There are a lot of things that are sad and unfair and infuriating and crazy making and 

They leave us hurt and angry and lost and confused. 

 

Our tendency in life is to want to control  things. 

But some things can’t be controlled. 

Yet when we’re hurt and angry and lost and confused, 

We want to control things even more. 

We want to fix things. 

We want to make everything better.

We want to make sweeping changes that will put everything into balance. 

And then we get overwhelmed because it seems like there is nothing we can do because the problem is too great. 

 

In the movie Frozen Two, 

At her moment of deepest despair,

When all seems lost,

Anna sings this song: 

 

I've seen dark before

But not like this

This is cold

This is empty

This is numb

The life I knew is over

The lights are out

Hello, darkness

I'm ready to succumb

 

I follow you around

I always have

But you've gone to a place I cannot find

This grief has a gravity

It pulls me down

But a tiny voice whispers in my mind

"You are lost, hope is gone

But you must go on

And do the next right thing"

 

Can there be a day beyond this night?

I don't know anymore what is true

I can't find my direction, I'm all alone

The only star that guided me was you

How to rise from the floor

When it's not you I'm rising for?

Just do the next right thing

Take a step, step again

It is all that I can to do

The next right thing

 

I won't look too far ahead

It's too much for me to take

But break it down to this next breath

This next step

This next choice is one that I can make

 

So I'll walk through this night

Stumbling blindly toward the light

And do the next right thing

And with the dawn, what comes then

When it's clear that everything will never be the same again?

Then I'll make the choice

To hear that voice

And do the next right thing

 

Friends:

No matter where you find yourself today, 

Or in this season of life, 

I pray that you will stop trying to control 

Everything 

And just do the next right thing. 

 

Amen.