Granny Learns Something Important About Grief (With a Little Help From Paow)

Granny Learns Something Important About Grief (With a Little Help From Paow)

Granny is learning. Slowly, thoughtfully, and with a great deal of respect. Granny is currently studying to become a holistic grief support coach so that I can gently support people who are grieving — whether it’s the loss of a beloved cat, another animal companion, or a different kind of loss altogether. I’m not a therapist, and I don’t try to fix anyone’s pain. My intention is simply to listen, to understand, and to offer kind, steady support to those who feel unseen in their grief.

 

I was sitting at the kitchen table the other morning, tea going cold (again), when Paow jumped up and stared at me the way only a cat can.

 

“Granny,” he said — because yes, in my world my cat talks — “you’ve been very quiet lately. Are you learning heavy things again?”

 

I smiled. “Yes, my boy. I’ve just finished the first module of my holistic grief support course. And it made me think… a lot.”

 

Paow flicked his tail. “Is it the fixing kind of learning? Or the listening kind?”

 

That question landed right in my heart.

 

Grief Is Not Something to Fix

 

One of the biggest lessons from this first module is something Paow seems to understand instinctively: grief is not a problem to be solved.

 

It’s not something you rush through. It’s not something you “get over”. Grief is something you carry, and it shows up in many ways — in the body, in the heart, in our spirit, and in how we relate to others.

 

When someone loses a beloved cat, the world often tells them, “It was just a pet.” But anyone who has loved a cat knows better. The grief is real. The bond was real.

 

Paow nodded. “Of course it was. We choose our humans carefully.”

 

So, Granny is learing.

 

Looking at Grief as a Whole

 

Granny is learning about a holistic approach to grief, which simply means we don’t look at only one part of a person. Grief can bring:

 

Tired bodies and sleepless nights

Big feelings — or sometimes no feelings at all

Questions about meaning, faith, or life itself

A sense of being alone, even when others are around

 

Paow stretched. “So grief lives everywhere, not just in tears.”

 

Exactly.

 

Being There, Not Fixing

 

Another important lesson for me was learning the difference between support and therapy. I’m not here to diagnose or heal anyone. My role — and my calling — is simply to be there, to listen, and to hold gentle space for people grieving the loss of their cats.

 

Paow blinked slowly. “That sounds like what I do when you’re sad. I sit. I don’t talk. I stay.”

 

Yes. That.

 

Why This Matters for Cat Loss Grief

 

So many people carry quiet grief after losing a cat. There are no rituals, no casseroles, no permission to mourn openly. This first module reminded me how important it is to honour that grief — softly, respectfully, and without judgement.

 

This is only the beginning of my journey into holistic grief support, but the foundation matters. It shapes how I listen. How I speak. And how I show up for others who are hurting.

 

Paow hopped down. “Good. Humans need better listeners.”

 

A Gentle Invitation

 

If you’ve lost a cat and still feel the ache — even years later — please know this: your grief makes sense. You’re not weak. And you’re not alone.

 

I’ll be sharing more reflections as I continue this learning journey, especially around cat loss grief, pet bereavement, and gentle, holistic ways of coping.

 

If this story spoke to you, you’re warmly invited to stay with us, read along, and share your own experiences.

 

Question for you: Has your cat ever taught you something about grief, love, or simply being present?