The Intersection of Grief and Guilt
TW: Death of a cat
We lost Pan.
That’s how we say it in our culture that tries to sanitize death. Is it not? Or sometimes we are rudely blunt “A coyote killed Pan”. However we wrap it, the flavor of mourning a loss tastes rancid in our gut. Sometime synchronicities come like flecks of gold with magical outcomes. But when they cluster together and culminate into a Shakespearean Tragedy we call them Omens. Yet in doing so there’s implied guilt. Some version of “I should have known better”.
Don’t get me wrong, I have guilt locked up. I SHOULD have done better. But Martha reminded me that if I were to insist on blaming myself, then she would have to blame herself as well because she brought Pan to me as she did every lovely Sunday. To be clear, Pan wasn’t a door runner. I could have my patio door wide and she never left for wide open spaces. She was very much at home in our home.
I could show you video clips over years that we’ve been in this woodsy acre that show not one coyote in our yard. Certainly not mid day, in the blink of an eye. While the dogs and I were a stone throw away.
I could talk about the foreboding premonition a couple nights before while looking at the wildlife cam alerts on my phone at 3 a.m. And the haunting voice that said “You know, one day you will see something killed on these cameras, Karma.” Had it said HEED MY WARNING, maybe I would have taken precautions. But it wasn’t a warning, it was letting me know what was to come about.
Pan didn’t let me know that she had plans. Bo may have known. As my hairless dog, was silent about the coyote’s presence until it came down the path and tried to find one of the little dogs.
Some people never know when a loved little paw goes missing. I never saw what happened to Gwen 30 years ago, or T’Pau 25 years ago, or the Bunny 20 years ago .. oh wait, that’s not true, I have pictures and a blog about the Bobcat’s Bunny.
But Pan’s videos will live only in my forever memories. She wanted me to see her, I’m sure. Indeed she wanted me to know her spirit was near. In some cultures it is believed that we BECOME the spirit animal that caused our death. If this is the case, Pan is now the Coyote.
Indeed that night after her death at high noon, with full lights on in my bedroom and our open patio glass slider letting the night breeze come into the room through our closed screen door. A coyote came right up and pressed it’s nose to the metal grate. Peered deep into the room as if it knew who we were and was not afraid. Unphased even by the dogs barking the alarm. Indeed it only moved a few steps away when the redneck got up and they made eye contact. But even then it wasn’t a frightened predator running away, it was a knowing nod and a slow turn as the spirit animal walked away. Coincidence maybe, but I’m one that believes the statistically improbable are the signs that we are not alone. Our interconectedness with All That Is speaks to us in the silence of the sacred manifested for our eyes only. Indeed when Martha went to leave to drive to her nature hike later that week, she pulled out of the driveway and came face to face with the coyote standing in the middle of the road.
It wasn’t a coincidence that the coyote came to us. It was part of a plan that I will never understand. But I will honor her spirit and her choices. She came to us as a rescue when the pandemic took hold and she let us love her until it was time for her to move on.
And somehow that’s what we each need to do now as we hold her memory close to our heart. The intersection of Grief and Guilt holds more than the pain we can name. There is an opening of our heart to that which is more than words can speak. It holds the sacred in the silence even when our tears sting as we catch our breath from sobbing. All we can do is hold our self lightly as the waves come crashing to the shore. Breathe in … breath out.
It’s been nearly two months that I haven’t been able to talk about missing Pan. Maybe I was waiting for the pain to subside a bit from the bitter cold chill to something that felt it held a bit more promise. Then I realized that day may never come in the way I thought it might.
Indeed we do have another Sphynx kitten now but somehow her presence seems to remind us more and more that she is not Pan. And that’s okay. In a way, I suppose. Because Pan rescued US during the pandemic. And little Rosie, will be another not so shaggy dog story for another day. No doubt she’s come with her own synchronictic magic.
On the intersection of Guilt and Grief there are actually four roads, not two. We enter into the quad and we can turn north, south, east or west. Actually we can wander off the beaten path if we so choose . While it may seem like we are stuck in the mud. The truth may be .. when we can keep the wheels under the car, we are in the best position to be exactly where we are suppose to be.
Rest in Purfection Sweet Pan, you are forever in our hearts.
In the weeks following Pan’s death, we created a memorial (gateway) for her up in the back 40. The dogs have been “scenting” the location every day, their way of keeping the coyotes away. And we still have our wild life cams on in that area. One night, this lovely little fox brought an offering (avocado) to the memorial and stopped to pay her respects. Behaviors we have never seen before on our cam reels. It was touching and treasured. ♥
