Between surgery and losing Seamus, this has been one of the most difficult months of my life. Yet the words I keep coming back to today are “thank you.” Thank you all so much for your support and kindness during these hard days. I have held every single one of your comments, prayers, and messages close to my heart. Thank you for caring—for Seamus, for me, and for Monty, Mackin, and Carrick.
My surgeon is confident that I’m healing, though I’m confined to bed until mid-September. As for Mackin and Carrick—they’re both grieving the loss of Seamus. Mackin has been clinging to Monty more than usual and even occasionally to me. And Carrick—oh, our sweet little one. Monty and I had no idea that he would take the loss of Seamus so hard. When we go to bed, Carrick doesn’t stay in here with us like he used to. He wanders around the house, pacing and meowing in a way he’s never done before. The confusion in his eyes breaks my heart; I keep telling him that I don’t understand it, either. I think Carrick believes that Seamus is just away on some kind of vacation—that he’ll be back any time. How I wish that were true.
So we are coping, each of us in our own way. One of my ways is to write, though it’s incredibly sad to do so without Seamus beside me. He always loved it when I was writing. I wrote this poem for him, entitled
“James”—James was my nickname for Seamus (it’s the British form of Seamus) and the only name he deigned to respond to.
James
– R. A. P.
If I close my eyes and concentrate,
I can almost feel the weight of you against me—
the way you settled in my lap,
so content just to be with me.
Now there’s a painful emptiness in all the spaces you filled,
especially my arms.
They ache for the times I’d carry you around,
singing “Sweet Baby James” to you.
I’d hold you close as I sang,
and you’d rest your cheek against mine.
The line “Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose”
made me think of your eyes–of the depths of color in them—
the way they’d brighten in the sunshine
and darken when you looked at me,
full of love as I told you that I could hold you forever:
you were made for my arms.
and fight for every beautiful moment of your life.
Your fight is over now, but mine is just beginning.
I’ll fight as hard as you did—boldly and fiercely.
I’ll fight to mend my heart with the memory of you,
with the beauty that will always be you.
I’ll live and love and fight for the beautiful—
for you. For me.
“Rock-a-bye, sweet baby James.”
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Comments 20
So sorry for your loss Renee! There is healing in your writing, as you share your soul. I do pray healing for you, both physically from your surgery, and for the ache of grief, in the loss of your dear Seamus. Thank you for sharing your journey with us all.
Thank you so much, Vickie. I so appreciate your prayers and kind words. Love to you.
You will get through this bump in the road hang in there stay strong, love and prayers.
Grover
Thank you, Grover. I’m trying–your prayers are no doubt helping. Love back to you.
Our furry friends are family and when we loose one we have lost a love, a best friend and a family member. God will be with all involved as you process your grief and heal from your loss.
You, Monty, Carrick & Mackin will be in my prayers.
Thank you, Bob, for your understanding. You know exactly how I feel. Thank you more than I can say for your prayers and your kindness to me.
Hello Sparrow. First and foremost, my heart, my prayers go out to you, Monty, your family. You have a deep faith in our Lord, you have enormous inner strength, though it is painful, physically, emotionally, You will emerge, healed, stronger than ever. I pray for you daily, Soarrow. You will “fly again”, fully healed. God Bless You, stay safe. Get ready to fly……TexGen❤️😇🙏❤️😇🙏
TexGen–thank you for the prayers; we need them. It’s just a very sad time. But I’m holding on to hope that I will be healed and stronger than ever. Your message gave me so much hope that I took a screenshot of it. I reread it often. Thank you so much. ❤
Oh Renee – you have such a way with words. I know you are grieving and healing. Such a strong woman, you are. Glad you are “back”. Love You! LoraK
Lora–thank you. I know you understand how hard it is to lose a pet–it’s just so very hard. Thank you for your kind words. Love you back.
I did a happy dance when I saw there was writing by you!!! Seamus was a very blessed kitty to be loved so well by you. Thank you for writing even while you are experiencing pain. Your words heal so many others, may they also heal you. I love you. ❤️
Ah, my sweet sister. I treasure your words. Your wisdom is helping me to heal–thank you so much for that. I love you. ❤
My heart goes out to you and I know there are no words that can repair a broken heart from missing a fur baby. I know you don’t need a reminder but Seamus is now keeping an eye on all of you from above. He’s climbing trees and taking naps galore under the most beautiful scenery, and enjoying a head scratch from our Lord. I hope you’re recovering at gigantic steps from your surgery. Thank you for writing such beautiful words in honor of Seamus.
Estela–thank you for such a beautiful image of my Seamus. It helps enormously to picture him that way. Blessings and love to you.
“You’re gonna make it,” my dear!! Thank you for writing again. I’m a happy mom!
I’m not even trying to cry on the inside. . . ❤
Thank you for sharing such touching words. Our families extend far beyond the human realm and I pray for your comfort. And, somehow, I truly believe that we may be with our pets in Heaven. If Heaven is perfect, then it certainly MUST have felines and canines, imho…
God’s best to you and Monty during this very stressful time. Prayers each morning.
Thank you, Jim. I believe and agree with you about heaven. I like the way you phrased the sentence about families, especially. Thank you so much for the prayers–we need them.
I know this had to have been incredibly hard to write but it was such beautiful words. Thank you for writing them and letting me know you’ll be okay even as you grieve. I love you, dear sis
Lisa–it was. I cried the whole time. But Seamus deserved some kind of tribute. I will be okay–largely in part to you. Thank you for being there for me every step of the way. I love you. ❤