Missing Loki

It’s exactly a month since my sweet Loki died. A whole month of me barely sleeping because I miss his presence right by me, my little fur ball. He would always try to put his little head on my shoulder, even as I slept. How I miss my boy.

It’s been a horrible month. We’ve been trying hard to come to terms with the quiet. Little things like me picking up my car keys used to be received with such delight. Oh how Loki’s tail would wag. He had such an expectant look on his face whenever I picked up keys or put on shoes. The adoration was always there too. My Loki loved me. Of course, I loved him. His loss has been hard to bear. I had to see an eye specialist, because my eyes swelled up. He told me I was crying too much. The same thing the ENT specialist said when I went to see him with congested sinuses. How do you not cry when you’re sad? I miss Loki.

We made some plans for Christmas before Loki died and I’m going ahead with them to try and keep myself busy. I’m thankful that there have been a wedding luncheon, birthday and wedding anniversary parties to attend. I’m sad to hear of not so pleasant things happening in the lives of family members or friends I hold dear. I’m gutted to hear of things not working out or getting too complicated. It’s painful to hear of loss of loved ones or of loved ones enduring loss too. So painful. I’m happy to hear of good things happening. There are reunions, job promotions and lots of different things going on. So many things, good and bad. Both of these occupy my mind and race to claim my attention, but I cannot shake the fact that my little Loki with his gooey-eyed grin or despondent look (when he wanted more attention than he was receiving) is no more here.

What have I learnt from this? For starters, I’m very in touch with my emotions. This surprises me. Many may say I’m not strong and it no longer bothers me. I know my world’s been turned upside down and I am sad. I feel like my heart’s been ripped out and crushed. I’m learning to pray my emotions. Without these, how insipid our prayers are. I’m learning not to sanitise my prayers. My emotions help me keep it real. I’m not living in some “pretend” or “positive vibes only” reality. My whole humanity – the happy and the sad amongst other aspects, really matter.

I’ve learnt that blessings come in all forms, and whatever the form, you have no control over how long they stay. My mum was a blessing. I’m forever going to be grateful for her. My granny was a blessing too. I recognise that the lovely Patches, my turkey thief was one blessing. These are just a few examples. Of course I should say what a beautiful blessing my baby Loki was. With his fragile body, he helped me understand that my own physical limitations didn’t need to mean that I couldn’t have a ball. He came into my life when I needed to learn this as my RA makes my physical limitations obvious. Loki’s lesson was clear and constant there. He came into my life at a time when I was ready to learn how to enjoy a moment. He was permanently by my side. The lockdowns we had because of COVID weren’t half bad because of my Loki. I have learnt that the characteristics of each blessing can be so vastly different but that you can’t help but love them.

Perhaps the biggest lesson of all that God has shown me through my sweet Loki is that it’s okay to have a heart that’s soft or susceptible to tears. It is okay to grieve – you needn’t hide it. It becomes a part of your make up. It doesn’t have to be avoided or hidden. There was so much beauty in my life with Loki. I never have to hide it or stop cherishing it. I don’t have to be stoic or pretend that everything is alright. Everything isn’t alright. Loki’s gone and I miss him.

Loki’s left a paw print in my heart. When I remember how things weren’t alright for Loki, and when I remember his zest for life and his many expressions, I realise that Loki showed me what it really is like to live the best he could in complete surrender to God. Loki was a better example of creation submitting to his creator than I have been. His brokenness was a part of him. How I loved him for it. So as I go through this season of grief for my lovely Loki, I want to recognise that God sees me and that my pain matters. This Loki lesson is painful but I must thank God for it. It isn’t the lesson I would’ve chosen for myself. It is however, the lesson I got taught. Loki showed me that no matter what my circumstances are, there is much to be grateful for and much to look forward to. I wish his PTSD hadn’t made it impossible for him to live. But I know he lived well for as long as he could despite it all. Oh Loki. What a lesson to have left me with.

I miss Loki very much.