Sometimes Real Life Knocks on the Door – Even Mine

On Saying Goodbye…

Trigger warning: loss of a beloved pet.

Sometimes real life knocks on the door—even mine. I call it the Wildmess…

Imagine a place somewhere between the woods and the sea where there is enough space for the Wilderness and the Wildflowers, where there is enough room to feel the sun on your skin, let the wind tangle your hair, let the earth, the sun, and the rain embrace and inspire you, and where there is enough space to wander, sometimes stand still, reflect, and wonder…

If you’ve read my latest Wildflower Moments, you might remember I was worried about our elderly, already deaf cat, Teun. And my worries turned out to be justified. Blood tests showed he had kidney failure—a process that cannot be reversed…

It became a weekend of goodbyes, of tears, of final cuddles, and of sharing memories. On Monday, we let him go. We said our goodbyes and buried him in my backyard…

A few days that felt like I was wandering through another universe—where my mind still often drifts—while on the outside, I’m expected to walk around on Earth. Confused, heartbroken…

Wildmess, a small winter season, even though autumn has only just begun. Coming to a halt, slowing down, resting, feeling, turning inward…

One of the things that helps me during a winter season is practicing gratitude. That’s not always easy when life is heavy—or feels heavy. But there’s always something that was beautiful, that went well, that felt good. This past weekend, we shared and wrote down our favorite memories of him. That was meaningful and comforting.

Besides being deeply sad, I’m also immensely grateful for the more than sixteen years that Teun tolerated us in his life. Because that’s what cats do—they tolerate you. Although I like to think, and hope, that he also enjoyed having us around.

Thank you, dear Teun—for your cuddles, for listening to our stories, for your softness, for catching our tears, for keeping us grounded in the here and now, for warming our laps, for bringing rhythm to our days, for simply always being there…

It feels strange without you. Every time I walk into the living room, I look for you. Every time a door is left open, I want to close it to stop you from sneaking upstairs—or onto my desk chair, which I really do want to sit on myself. Every time I come home in the dark, I’m afraid I’ll trip over you. I no longer need to feed you or let you outside. And I can’t talk to you anymore…

The last thing I did each day was bring you to the utility room and lock the back door. The first thing I did each morning was feed you…

Accepting the Wildmess, accepting myself, accepting that things move a little slower now, that not everything gets done, taking the time to feel what needs to be felt. Spring will come again, eventually…

I didn’t know if I wanted to write this week—or if I even could. Then I remembered I could write a Wildflower Short. But in the end, it became more than that…