What My Cat Taught Me About Grief

My cat did not grieve the way I expected. When her sister died, she did not stop eating. She did not cry at night. She simply began sleeping in the exact spot the other cat used to take, facing the same direction.

For weeks I thought she was waiting. Then I understood: she was not waiting for her sister to come back. She was keeping the shape of her.

I had been trying to move through grief as if it were a corridor — something to get to the end of. She showed me another way. She sat down inside the loss and made herself comfortable. She let the missing become part of the furniture.

We still miss her sister. But now, when I find her in that spot, I do not feel only sadness. I feel something like recognition. Love, taking up its old position.