“The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.  Blessed be the name of the Lord.”  Job

I know he was only a cat, but he was a happy part of our lives.  When the quarantine was becoming very tedious, a kitten entered our lives.  His antics and sweetness endeared us to him.  As he grew, so did our appreciation and enjoyment of him.  He was a companion, entertainer, and breathed life into our empty nest.  He delighted us many hours of the day.  Even asleep, his crazy positions made us giggle and snap phone pics.  He chose dear Husband as his favorite which was only fair given the fact that past pets had seemed to default to me since I had more time for them while Husband was working.  This time Husband got preferential treatment.  Kitty would jump into his lap in the evening and recline while purring and looking lovingly into his face.  Unlike most felines, this cat loved all humans.  He would greet visitors upon arrival at our house and make them feel like a million bucks.  He gladly put up with littles who were loud, busy, or annoying.  Our granddaughters adored him.  (We knew they were anxious to come visit him, and oh, see us if there was time.)  Our not-a-fan-of-cats neighbor confided that our cat had often kept him company while he worked in his shop and that he actually liked him.  And so he had stolen the hearts of all who knew him.  I guess that’s why our hearts are aching right now.  A little part of us was buried today out in our field.  Our son noticed his body beside our country road when he came for a visit.  Hoping it wasn’t our cat, he had remained quiet until kitty didn’t show up to play with his girls. We didn’t want to be too emotional in front of his little girls who didn’t understand what had happened.  But after they left, we fell apart.  Husband dug the grave and I put him in.  I couldn’t bear to watch the dirt cover him, though.  I went into the house and took his food and water dishes away thinking I could ease the reminders.  But everything seems to remind us of him.  The rug is now uninhabited and the afternoon sunbeams are empty.  Husband and I sat on the sofa and talked and cried.  We decided that we are still thankful for the happy days enjoying him.  We don’t regret the purrs, the affection, and the paws wrapped around our legs after an ambush.  We remember with appreciation all the laughs, the life, and the love he brought into our little home.  

We sure can’t explain why his happy, free life was cut short.  And more importantly, we can’t understand why our strong 41-year-old daughter got two aggressive cancers and suffered through the torture of radical surgery, intense chemo, and long radiation.  The tears flowed today.  Relief tears that our daughter has finally completed her whole course of treatment and is still standing strong. Sad tears that her enemy cannot be declared forever defeated.  Tears that this life is hard and unpredictable and dangerous.  The presence of pain reminds us that this isn’t the way things should be. We are intended for a better world.  This one is broken.  

We have the comfort of feeling no regrets in the way we spent our allotted time with our kitty.  We enjoyed him to the full.  We savored each day, noticing his funny, sweet antics.  This reminds us of the bigger picture of appreciating every minute we have with loved ones.  Children grow too fast, our older family members won’t be with us forever, our healthy, prime-of-life loved ones are still fragile humans.  Life is uncertain.  We must be alert to every opportunity to savor the sweetness.

We all go from day to day as if this is what will always be.  Husband and I were talking about how we are lulled into dullness by repetition.  The humdrum of daily routine dulls us to the reality that there are no guarantees.  The lesson here is that we need to stay alert.  Nothing on this earth will go on forever.  Change is often sudden and final.  Our comfort has to be in God alone.  We can lose everything else;  our health, our relationships, our possessions, our abilities, our position, our comforts.  This world (as it is now) is not our home.  ‘We’re just a passin’ through,’ as the old black spiritual so aptly put it.

Grieving is feeling the loss today, but also feeling the loss of our tomorrows.  In our case, we know we can never have another cat.  We have now had two kitties killed by cars.  It would be irresponsible to get another cat.  I’ve never seen an ad, “Car savvy cat free to good home.” Given different circumstances, we might hope to get another cat.  But we are ruined for life because this kitty’s personality was so unique among cats.  There will never be another like him. This is true of much bigger losses.  We grieve the loss of hope for remedy when we lose a loved one.  The beloved person is gone and they were unique in all the world.  There will never be another person like them.

Loss reminds us of our own mortality and of those closest to us.  The world is a dangerous place.  We never know when loss will strike next.  Dear Husband and I kept saying, “We still have each other and that’s all we need.” I have to admit that saying that brought to the fore that old fear of losing him, too.  But instead of living in fear, we must live in faith in our good God who is working all things out for our good.  Sometimes we have to suffer in order to become our best selves.  And if we have never suffered, how can we comfort others?  But after our hearts have been tenderized by pain, we can come alongside others and share the comfort we found in God, the father of all comfort.

“All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort.  He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”  2 Corinthians 1:3-4

My human thinking says, “It’s cruel/random/pointless that our happy, healthy kitty’s body lies rotting in the cold, wet ground.  I just want him with us in our cozy house where he’s loved.”  So when the tears come, I declare, “You see and care, Lord.  Thank you for the happy times.  You gave us so much enjoyment.  You are good and you give good gifts.  I accept that this loss is part of living in a broken world.  I will be on the look-out for good things that will come out of it and after it because you bring good out of evil and beauty out of ugly.  Thank you for those who comforted us.  They are sweet gifts from you.  I sure do look forward to the day you’ll bring us safely to the new place you’re getting ready for us where there will be no more tears. In the meantime, you value my faith that holds on when I can’t see.”

“For we live by faith, not by sight.”  2 Corinthians 5:7

  “Then Jesus told him, “You believe because you have seen me. Blessed are those who believe without seeing me.”  John 20:29

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