Mourning Loki

In the past few days, I feel like I have been warped in sadness. Loki’s passing feels like I’ve lost a child. So young he was. Extremely cute. Immeasurably loving. So full of life one minute and gone the next. For Loki, a cruel hand dealt at the point of birth was simply impossible to overcome. It’s painful processing this. It’s shocking because of how it’s all panned out. It’s sad. 

Our home feels empty and terribly quiet. My dad and I feel like something’s missing and indeed, Loki is missing. He was part of our equation. Part of the family. I lost my mum quite awhile ago, and the reality of her loss hits me still, almost every day. It’s a reality that never goes away and now, with Loki gone, I’m sad for my dad and me and all those who shared in Loki whenever they came to our home or through a variety of other means, because I know this is what they will face. One friend who prayed for Loki when she learnt of some of his struggles shared with me that it was Loki who started her praying for our fur babies. We talked about how maybe her prayer list for all these precious pets could now be called the Loki List. We had a small chuckle but fell quiet again. There’s loss there. It’s a new reality. Loki’s gone. 

As I cry for Loki, there has been a great outpouring of love by family and friends and for this, I’m grateful. Messages coming through, not expecting an answer from me, not demanding to know what happened, have been really helpful. There has been so much thoughtfulness and care and I feel blessed in this sense. 

What I have found really annoying are the messages or calls that have come through demanding to know what’s happened to Loki. There’s been no expression of sorrow. There has been no compassion. There’s simply been no feeling. There’s been no moment to consider how I may be feeling at this time and whether it’s something I really need to relive again. Considering I’m struggling to sleep properly since Loki died, I’m going to say that I’m really not obliged to answer these “what happened” questions. 

There’s more. The messages, calls or conversations that have made me snap are the ones which nonchalantly suggest that I get another dog. Yeah. That should do it. Suppress this grief by getting another dog. It makes my blood boil. When someone loses a parent, child, spouse, sibling, family member or friend, do we suggest they go out and get another one? I don’t expect people to fully get how much Loki meant to me and what he was to our home. After all, not everyone gets how our fur kids become a part of our family. Saying that, I still find it so shocking, exasperating and infuriating to have such thoughtless comments come my way right now. Let me assure you, there is pain enough without these ridiculous comments, trying to come to terms with what’s happened. As I write this, I remember something that happened when my mum passed away. The magic cure to my grief at that point was to get married. Lord, have mercy! 

I am so grateful for the friends and family who have shared with me how they’ve dealt with loss of pets. This has been very helpful. I am so grateful for those who’ve messaged just to check in, without demanding any responses. They understand when I say I’m not up to chatting much. I’m super appreciative of those who’ve affirmed difficult decisions made and the terribleness of the entire experience. They’ve given me so much comfort. Am very grateful for those who have helped me express the shock in this horrible event. I’m so grateful for so many of my friends and family – just so kind and thoughtful. They’ve given me a space to grieve. I am grateful. I’m also grateful for time off work right now. It’s hard to focus on anything right now. 

Loss of any kind is hard. We don’t get to determine how hard or how significant the loss is. That is entirely the prerogative of the person suffering that loss. There are things that I don’t expect to cause me so much pain if I lost them. That’s inevitable, just as there are things that will hurt like crazy. No one else defines this- it’s my threshold. 

I am very grateful that I do have a God who knows pain. Jesus certainly felt all manner of pain and He relates to the brokenness of the world. Nothing was supposed to die or deteriorate. I’m fully appreciative of how Jesus wept when he went to Lazarus’ grave (John 11:5). He wept knowing full well that He was about to raise him. Why He wept has always interested me. He wept at the state of brokenness we’re in. The grip of sin over this world is indeed painful and He knew the cost of what He needed to do to redeem us. That really is at the nub of it. However, I don’t think many people then would’ve got it. Definitely not Martha and Mary or others grieving. I’m quite sure that Jesus also wept out of compassion for the pain and suffering humanity endures as a result of sin. This compassionate God helps me in the face of some of these thoughtless, hurtful comments and suggestions. Annoyed as I am over some of these, I’m sure Jesus sees me as I grieve over Loki. I’m sure He gets it- separation is horrible and the Trinity did experience it at a magnitude I’ll never know. I’m sure that the outpouring of love that I’m receiving from some of my family and friends is a result of His grace. For this, at this time, I am grateful and I thank Jesus, my friends and family who are helping me mourn Loki.