In my podcast series titled “Letters to John: Seeking Comfort and Connection Through Grief,” I explore how writing letters to my beloved pet, John, has aided me in dealing with his passing. Initially, I wasn’t able to do this because I was overwhelmed with the deep sorrow of losing him. However, as time passed and the intensity of my grief lessened, I felt a strong desire to reconnect with my dear animal companion. Being a writer, the most natural and effective approach for me was to express my thoughts and feelings through written notes addressed to him.

Yet I had not felt compelled to take this action with Lento due to the ongoing waves of intense sadness. However, last night, a realization struck me. As I gazed upon his cat house situated beneath my vanity table, I noticed it remained undisturbed, emanating his distinctive scent, I needed to talk to him. Letting out a sigh, I reached for my phone and penned the following message:

Lento,

Today I picked up your ashes and I was annoyed that everyone seemed fine as if you hadn’t died as if you hadn’t left this world. And I wanted to look inside the bag but I didn’t want to cry. And work has made me so angry lately that I haven’t been able to cry for you. And I miss your wide steady stare that seemed to knowingly look at me and calm me. I miss your deep purrs that could rock me to sleep. I miss cupping your wide face and giving you kisses. I miss you Lento and I think about you every day.

As I finished writing, I went to bed feeling a sense of calm. It was neither overwhelmingly positive nor negative, just a peaceful acceptance of the moment. I suppose that’s how it has to be sometimes, and that’s okay.