This time last year was a bad time for me. I lost my grandmother and my cat in the same week. I didn’t make it back to my home state for my grandmother’s funeral…and I buried my cat, my longtime buddy, in a blanket in the park. My grandma died in a hospital after succumbing to injuries from a fall. My beloved Neeners died in my lap on the way to the vet’s office for what was to be a second opinion.
I still have a strange feeling of unreality when it comes to my grandma’s passing; maybe it’s from lack of closure because of not being able to be at her funeral. Most of the time, my grief is sort of a dull sadness that resides in the back of my mind. The other day, I happened on a photo of her holding my daughter when J* was about three months old, and I suddenly felt the grief rear up, along with the familiar disbelief– denial– I’m really never going to see her again?
With Neeners, my grief is tainted by an unshakable guilt– why did I not do something for her sooner? Even if I couldn’t save her, maybe I could have at least spared her pain. What must she have thought of me when I had to give her the medicine that made her sick to her stomach? Did she think I was torturing her and she didn’t know why? I feel like I failed her somehow, even when I try to tell myself I did the best I could. If we had had the money to get the tests she needed for a more accurate diagnosis, sooner…
It’s too late for me to do anything about any of this. I could try to end this post with some wise thought or platitude about how time marches on and we all die sometime. Really, my only point with this post was to sort of remember my lost loved ones on this sort of anniversary week of their passing… and hoping that “honoring” them somehow keeps them from being forgotten.