Open the Floodgates

Photo by Amin Moshrefi on Unsplash

January 2023

When the goal is to be emotionally available, anything can spark an unexpected wave of grief. 

I stepped out of the door and was engulfed in crisp winter air.  A thin layer of ice crystals was beginning to thaw on the concrete pathway leading to our garage.  I spotted our cat Reishi, apparently sleeping in the bushes.  As I got closer, I started to laugh at the awkward way he was relaxing in the plants. Then, I got close enough for my laughter to stop abruptly.  I saw his face frozen, as if he was caught off guard by a glacial flood and preserved in the ice.  I recognized this pose from seeing other cats who didn’t reach their ninth life.  Reishi was dead.  

My first instinct was destructive rage.  I placed the blame and my anger on Salt, the vagrant white cat that wanders in and out of yards in our neighborhood with no apparent home base.  I presumed that Salt had attacked Reishi and left him in his sprawled out napping position.  I ventured closer and couldn't find any evidence of an attack. Besides the frozen face, the only other visible clue of death was a tiny drop of blood in the corner of his mouth.  I began frantically pacing in the garden.  Resihi is dead! What the fuck happened? I thought to myself.  I was on the verge of hyperventilating and went inside to try and ground myself.  I gazed at myself in the bathroom mirror.  I felt the urge to cry.  The tears were not forthcoming, and I got into an impossible wrestling match with myself.  I knew I needed to cry, and I also understood that I couldn't force myself to do so. Instead, I needed to surrender my sense of control.  

I did something unorthodox for me in a time of crisis. I asked for help. I called Maya to tell her what happened, and before I could speak a full sentence the floodgates burst.  I began sobbing like a small child whose toy was just stolen at the playground, stuttering between every word, with bubbles of snot percolating from my nostrils. 

 “Reshi.”  Gulp.  “Is.” Gulp.  “Dead.  I. I. I. Don't know. What happened.” Sniffle. 

She said she would be right there and hung up the phone.  Tears flew out of my eyes.  I blew my nose violently.  I looked at myself in the mirror again.  This time it looked like I hadn't slept in days and had been crying for 24 hours.  My eyes were sunken and blazing red. The wrinkles in my face appeared to have deepened by 10 years.  When I went outside to tell Maya what happened, the tears continued to flow. Taishan looked at me curiously. I noticed the desire to stop crying in front of him and allowed that feeling to pass.  More tears streamed down my face as I explained to him that Reishi was now an ancestor. He solemnly nodded his head in understanding.

What I released was above and beyond the transition of Reishi into the spirit realm.  Even now that I was an official cat person, there was a deeper pool of anguish I was drawing upon.  It had been 8 years since I had a cry like this, even though my life had been filled with plenty of events that warranted tears, if not an emotional breakdown.  One of my best friends and closest collaborators had tragically passed away.  The organization I built with her over the course of a decade had seemingly collapsed.  My relationship with my wife had nearly imploded.  My pre-father life and all the freedom associated with it was gone.  I didn’t think about any of these things as I cried, I just maintained the intention to let go and not be afraid to let other people witness my release.

Along with being able to cry in front of my son, another opportunity for healing emerged. I wondered if it would be too traumatic for Taishan to see his cat buried in the earth.  Would he have nightmares reminiscent of the movie Pet Cemetary? Would he try to dig Reishi back out of the soil? After discussing it with Maya, we agreed that it was important to not perpetuate a culture where death is hidden in secrecy.

We buried Reishi at the foot of an oak tree he liked to climb.  I dug a small hole at the base and delicately wrapped his stiff body in a cloth.  Maya and Tamar brought Taishan to the tree, and we formed a tight circle around the grave.  Taishan carried his bongo drums and waited for his cue to make music.  We all spoke short words of gratitude for Reishi and the joy he brought into our lives over the previous eight months.  I gently lowered him into the grave and right on cue, Taishan began to bang on his bongos in perfect rhythm.  We all took handfuls of dirt and cuttings of sage and sprinkled them over his body, packing the soil firmly, and covering it with a layer of bricks.  Reishi is now an ancestor.  Taishan experienced death. I cried. It was a successful day of healing.

~

For a musical interpretation of making peace with emotions listen to ‘When it Rains’ by clicking the image below .

“Feel like I was cast for this scene

but the mask I keep is cracking indeed.

Happy to be, on a raft in the sea

Not afraid to get wet, that is the secret.”