Three things that truly matter

“In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.” ~ Buddha

On Sunday our beautiful cat Grace died. She was such a bright light in our house. She had a sweet, dainty face, a big voice and an even bigger attitude. She trained us very well in the almost 16 years we have shared a house.

She was an early bird like me and we did pretty much the same things together most mornings. Grace liked to be fed around four a.m. followed by a specific brushing routine (just her head, chops and spine to the end of her tail). Some mornings she would tolerate (barely) if I slept in until five. She would meow and hit her paws against the half french doors near her food dish to announce she was ready for me to come to the kitchen or she would announce herself in the bedroom with loud meows and start knocking things over on purpose. Sometimes if I went into the bathroom first or poured a glass of water before getting her food in her dish, I’d receive a nip on the calf as if to say, ‘umm, the food is what we do first.’ She was big on bossy but also big on a routine that required she snuggled into my legs and purr on my meditation cushion with me after she’d eaten and been brushed.

This week there is a huge gap in my mornings. I miss her. I can feel my clinging to how things have been.

On the weekend, she transitioned from acting ‘off’ to being very ill. Overnight on Saturday she was hardly moving. I was up with her like I have been up with my daughter when she hasn’t felt well. I slept little but later felt guilty that I slept at all knowing it was the last opportunity I had to make sure she felt loved. In the final hours, before we took her for emergency vet care, I began to realize we would likely have to let her go. I loved her. I love her. Letting go is difficult.

Death can be a wonderful teacher. I am aware of how much I have felt inclined to deny the present by replaying the past. I am sadly aware that future mornings will be different. I am aware that love exists in the present and physical presence of a beloved isn’t a requirement.

Death is also a wonderful teacher because the conversations at my house the last few days have been so valuable. I have watched my own words about guilt over not doing enough be received by my daughter and realized that is not the role model I want to be. We are all enough because we do our best in the moment with the information, skills and resources we have. ‘Not enough’ doesn’t live in the present moment and can be destructive when we drag it into the future. As a family, we have spoken about the permanence of physical death and the choices we have: to live in gratitude that we shared our lives with another being, to be with grief when it arises without pushing away opportunities for joy.

The death of anything in your life (broken relationships, roles you have played that are no longer required, a job you have lost or a dream unfulfilled) brings with it incredible opportunities for looking inward at your relationship with yourself. Practice with yourself to love, to live gently and to let go. This can only happen in the present moment.

Where do you spend most of your time? If your gaze is stuck in the memories of the past or projected into the future, you are missing the sunshine right outside your window? You are missing the opportunities to truly live and to become someone else’s sunshine so they might find enough warmth to look inward too.

“In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.” ~ Buddha