Grief

On a cold, gray, and rainy November morning in August, we grieved with Linda for the loss of her friend. The news was received in a casual morning's perusal of the last twelve hours worth of e-mails -- casual until my eyes scanned across Linda's words of explanation, and suddently the air became thicker, the skies turned grayer, and my heart grew heavy: Bagheera had passed away in the night.

To some, it's hard to understand the meaning and emotions caught up in the death of a beloved pet, and -- truth be told -- I've never been much of a "cat person" (slightly allergic, in fact)... But Bagheera was more than a pet: she was a friend, a companion, and a symbol of familiarity, faithfulness, fearlessness... For some reason, I've found myself strangely affected by the loss of Bagheera... And honestly, I don't fully understand the meaning of these emotions.

Linda doesn't have trouble understanding. For her, Bagheera was one of the few static points over the last two years of transition and uncertainty. An anchor during the storms of uprooted relationships, nauseating homesickness, and debilitating unfamiliarity that mark the sojourn to a new and foreign world. Sleek, svelte, smooth, smart -- a cat can be all of the things that a human cannot as stranger in a strange land. For Linda, her cat was a friend, roommate, comforter, confidant, and beloved daughter. Someone who would always listen, lounge, and lavish unconditional love through the peaks and valleys of life in Amsterdam... Losing Bagheera is a loss of means and meaning -- clearly evidenced by the sobs poured out over a bouquet of sunflowers. Grieving such a loss is no mystery for Linda.

Elliot doesn't have trouble understanding. Just three and a half years into his life, Bagheera has become his first real experience with death. His gateway into the existential questions with which we must all wrestle: Why did Bagheera die? -- Why is Linda sad? -- Why can't I see her again? -- Where is Bagheera now? -- Am I going to die? And while death is a new concept, sadness and separation are very meaningful keys that provide passage through the gateway to the formation of his understanding. So Elliot does grieve. He grieves because Bagheera started as a different kind of gateway: his first real experience with a cat. At first, Elliot would not want to even go near Bagheera (nor would Bagheera want to go near Elliot). Over time, he would get near to her (and she to him) -- but touching was still out of the question. Eventually, physical touch could be initiated, down near the tail... It was a slow dance, but they finally found fidelity, fearlessness, and friendship -- to the point that her passing now presents pain.

Now, through these people that we love, Marci and I are pulled into this grief. Together, we experience the emotions. Together, we ask the meaning. We wrestle with the deeper implications of a friend's death. What is heaven like? Do animals find life after death? Defined answers are hard to come by...

Yet if heaven is meant to be a place of joy and fulfillment, I find it hard to believe that Linda will not again experience the joy and fulfillment of stroking Bagheera's soft, warm fur one day. And if we're one day promised new and glorified bodies to experience a new Heaven and a new Earth, I find it hard to believe that there would not be new and glorified animals as well. Eden reborn... But then again, maybe the animals never left Eden in the first place. They never knowingly disobeyed. They never tasted the forbidden fruit. They never fell from grace.

As I consider this, I can see the reason for Bagheera's aura of innocence and divinity. And I can understand why we now miss her so much: we must persist in this fallen world without them.

Tonight we say good-night to Bagheera -- wherever she is -- and we look forward to an end of this existence of tossing and turning, when we can wake up in glory. Together in Eden.