Grief is the price we pay for love 1 of 2

This is a sad blog post. It's about grief. There is no swish and sparkle, there are no pots of gold at the end of the rainbow. If that’s not for you then I suggest you click back and don’t read on. OK?

Everyone else, are you still with me, are you sitting comfortably? Good, then I’ll begin.

Grief is the price we pay for love
The title is a quote from The Queen. I am neither pro or anti monarchy, but whenever I feel grief about losing someone/something special in my life I remind myself of this quote. June is always a hard time for me, 1 June is the anniversary of Dad’s death, and two weeks later on 15 June it’s Fathers Day.

It surprises me how physically the feeling of grief can be felt. It’s like a physical blow to the heart, I often find, at the most inopportune moments.

I’ve also had two recent losses, hitting me like a hammer each time. I felt the grief pushing down on my chest and I could hardly breathe.

I will explain, using a story – which makes sense since I’m an author. I’m not sharing this to get sympathy, and I know many other people have experienced much sadder losses, of children, partners or siblings, and many people have been carers for relatives.

I am sharing this because the grief anyone feels is real, and is because they have loved. Even if the grief is for a pet, and for an elderly relative who had undeniably, ‘had a good innings’ it is still real grief.

I don’t think we talk about death and grief enough, so this, inspired by the amazing Channel 4 documentary, My Last Summer #mylastsummer is my attempt at starting something.  

I think you don’t ever fully get over grief, you just learn to live with it.   

*opens first page of book*

May 2014
Liam came home from a sweaty Tube journey to find a heavy bill from the specialist vet and another envelope from a pet cremation service. He opened them both and sat, hardly able to breathe, reading them thinking he’d better make some dinner soon, and wondered when James, his boyfriend, would be home.

June 2014
Liam sat next to his mum in the registrar’s office in Essex, as a friendly woman called Sharon, with bright pink nails, silver jewellery and a low-cut black sleeveless top went over the details of the deceased for the death certificate.

‘Do you do weddings too?’ Liam asked.

‘Weddings and births yes. So it’s not all sad.’ Sharon flicked her long blonde hair and adjusted the silver cross round her neck; her silver bangles reflected the sunlight coming through the window. She explained they use special registrar’s ink for signing the certificates.

Then
Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there was a man called Liam Livings. In 2002 he went to a night club in London. A man called James sat next to Liam, mistakenly thinking Liam was with James’ group of friends. Liam wasn’t, but they talked about music, TV, films, life and ended up dancing to I think We’re Alone Now, by Tiffany.

In 2008 Liam and James moved from their central London flats to a house in suburban west Essex. Liam started to help look after Great Auntie, visiting her every week.

Me with highlights in my hair, and Great Auntie with a M&S cardigan. Summer 2009. Great Auntie is 87 here. I am, as always an undetermined age.

In January 2010 Liam and James adopted two five year old tabby cats called Tigger and Toffee. Their owner had emigrated to Canada and they couldn’t bring them along. Tigger was short haired with a white stomach and paws and Toffee was long haired, with a toffee coloured stomach. Tigger was always first to do everything, Toffee stayed back and was more cautious.

In January 2012 James was worried that Toffee hadn’t come in for the evening as usual. The next day James looked for Toffee and found him, dead in a ditch on the other side of the road outside their house. Toffee was seven years old and Liam and James had adopted him two years before.

Toffee. He had toffee coloured belly and used to fetch sticks we threw for him in the back garden. He was much more timid and quiet than his brother, Tigger.

After a few months they went to the cat sanctuary, explained their situation and asked if they could adopt another cat to join Tigger. They aimed to adopt one cat, but ended up adopting two as they couldn’t agree which one to take. In March 2012 they came home with Sparkle, a small silver tabby girl cat who had been a stray and who ate everything that wasn’t covered, and Domino a white and black long haired cat who had been kicked and suffered from a blocked bladder. His previous owner couldn’t pay for the bladder so the cat sanctuary had adopted him to save him from being put to sleep.

In July 2012 Sparkle was hit by a car and died almost instantly. Sparkle was three years old and had been part of Liam and James’ family for five months. Liam and James thought that having been a stray Sparkle would have road sense.

Sparkle. She used to sit with her tongue poking out meowing. She once ate cupcakes from the table and grabbed a roast pork joint left out in the kitchen.

In May 2014 Tigger was hit by a car, suffering a fractured sacrum. He was referred to a specialist vet who fixed his sacrum. For the first few days they visited him every day they were allowed, and he started to eat food Liam and James gave him, and he rubbed his head against their hands, purring. After a week, fluid started to accumulate on Tigger’s lungs and the vets inserted a chest drain after manually draining it a few times. On Sunday 15 May the vet explained Tigger’s lungs were filling with fluid again. The options were: wait and see; let him go; try to insert a drain on the other side of his lungs. The wait and see option wasn’t felt to be fair as Tigger’s breathing was laboured, and it is a very unpleasant way to die, so Liam and James went for the option to hopefully save him. Tigger’s heart stopped beating on the operating table and the vet called Liam at just before midnight on 25 May. Tigger was almost nine years old, and had been part of Liam and James’ family for four years four months. 

Liam and James had all the treatment the vets suggested, regardless of cost. They just wanted him well and home.

Tigger, in a very Tigger pose - asking for attention/food on the kitchen table. He used to reach out at us with his claws, not to scratch but to get our attention. Every time someone opened the fridge he meowed as he knew it meant the possibility of milk.

Liam and James have lost three cats in two years four months. That is one cat every nine months. Liam felt stupid that they didn’t keep the cats inside after losing first Toffee, then Sparkle, but he rarely saw them out the front of the house, and thought they had road sense. Liam and James thought Tigger was old enough to have road sense at nine years old.

The cat they still have, Domino, is now a house cat. He has a six feet high cat climbing tree. He is allowed into the back garden with a lead and harness, and seems to be adapting well to this change. This is not something James thought he’d be happy with, but it is a compromise and life is about compromises.

It was a big day at Livings Towers when the back door with the catflap was replaced with a new door without a cat flap. It felt very final, but Liam and James didn't feel they had any other options.  

*closes page of book*

Domino with his harness and elesticated lead in the back garden. We are so pleased to have him.

I changed my short story, Frangipani Kisses in the Bedtime Stories Anthology to include Tigger as the pet. Originally the cat was called Tiger, but after Tigger passed away, I renamed the pet and added in some things that Tigger used to do. In some small way, Tigger will live on in that story.

I think that's enough for today. Next time I will be talking about how the loss of Great Auntie feels.

Liam Livings xx