September 8th marks what would have been Jay’s 52nd birthday.  Milestones after a loved one has passed away remain wild cards in my emotional existence. Some come and go without much ado (like the anniversary of the weekend in June we met) others that shouldn’t have been major milestones (like remembering the last time he had me get his favorite TGIFriday’s take out dish with extra, extra Jack Daniels sauce when he was in physical rehab) end up bringing tears almost every time I drive past the restaurant.

I wasn’t sure what to expect this week when a grief counselor early in August reminded me of how the back half of the year would herald a lot of potentially tough milestones for me. Given the wide range of reaction I guess I had tried not to set any expectations in order to have none to breach or surpass. I’ve been partially successful.

What has resulted is a quiet and somewhat perpetual emotional….unease this week.  It might be un-iterated grief lurking in the corners of my psyche waiting to blow me up. Not my first rodeo with unintentionally clamming up and then being sidelined by the linebacker of grief when it’s most inconvenient.  It may be because through my spiritual journey I’ve taught myself we’ll meet again and I’ll always know the meaning of grace and kindness through my knowing of him. Despite this empty hole I have somewhere mid chest that nothing fills. 

Mostly what has hit me the hardest is twofold. I both marvel at and fret that I’ve had the most wonderful love of my life already happen, and worse, come and gone and the longer I stabilize into my new existence I just don’t see how anyone can compare.  Maybe “widowed with cats” really is who I am now, and might be for the rest of my life. Yes, I’ll always be a daughter too, but even that is partially bittersweet because I understand my father’s last years more than ever after his own life love died before him and died way too soon….and he never truly recovered till his own dying day.  I’m ever more grateful for my mother’s continued stabilizing influence.  For my family I’m still in touch with. For my friends, my chosen American family.

Maybe “widowed with cats” isn’t such a bad moniker. And maybe it’s just for right now.  Or maybe even for quite some time. Years. Decades even. And that’s ok, even if I’m still uneasy with it. The past 12 months have taught me so much about what is important, and who those important souls in my life are.  After spending a lifetime rebelling against labels I’ve reluctantly realized I miss one specific label from one specific person, and it’s a weird realization.  Free spirits truly do thrive best when given the freedom and unconditional support to fly.  Then they flourish when they discover they want to fly beside and with that love, not away from them. 

Hug your loved ones and cherish time spent with them. Stay connected. Don’t let distance or time drive your love apart. You just never know how long you have with them and tomorrow shouldn’t be taken for granted. 

Peace and bright blessings,

Katy