“How did you possibly get over the death of your sister when you didn’t even know what happened to her,” asks my husband who, along with our two children and I, is grieving over the recent mysterious injuries that led to the death of our family cat, Tiger.

“We don’t know if Tiger was hit by a car or kicked by a horse, or…” he pauses, “Severely kicked by someone…and that infuriates me to think someone could do such a thing to an animal even if they were angry about them wandering into their yard!”

“Oh…I hope that isn’t one of the possibilities in what happened to Tiger,” I respond knowing full well some people get completely out of control when their property is breached. It is a horrifying thought for me that a human would have hurt Tiger and then left him like that…to suffer such pain while they did nothing!

“We’ve had dogs wander into our yard and I’ve chase them away. But I would never kick them,” he adds emphatically.

“So how did you deal with the unknowing about Cindy’s death?” he continues. “My stomach is all tied up in knots because of what happened to Tiger…the unknowing…the possibilities…the suddenness…the anger…the sadness…the emptiness…I can’t fathom what you had to go through with Cindy’s death,” he adds.

I had met him four-and-a-half years after my sister’s death. He never knew Cindy. And never having a pet dog or cat when he was growing up, he never really understood a grief like this. Sure he had experienced his grandfather’s death four years ago, but that had been so different…somehow expected and not really mysterious, so he had coped and moved forward.

“Well, I find it never goes away…the wondering that is,” I try to explain. “The pain of loss slowly gets better, but even now I don’t like to dwell on it too much because the mystery part can drive you crazy and there’s nothing you can do about it. I had to find a way to channel the negativity, the unknowing, the questioning, the anger, in order to move beyond it. That’s why I just had to research all the details relating to Cindy’s death and compile it into a book. It was my cleansing…my release…my way of letting go. My way of trying to understand and make sense of it.”

“Well the children and I are still pretty shaken up over Tiger’s death and I don’t know what to do to help them,” he sighs.

“Yes, it’s very difficult,” I add. “I still can’t believe it either.”

“If I find out someone kicked Tiger, I’ll be furious,” he spits.

“Hey…It’s so good you are being honest about your feelings,” I say as I hug him. “And,” I continue, “If we help the children express their thoughts, their feelings and their grief… we’ll manage just fine. We just need to ask them what they need us to do to help them heal. Really listening to them is a huge part of all this.”

“Maybe we could go to the SPCA,” I add, “And give some love to homeless animals as we all heal. Then when we’re ready we could adopt one. I’d love to have a cat again, but not just yet because I know we can never replace Tiger with his amazing personality…and I don’t want to just fill the void…I want to share my love for another pet when we can concentrate on it for the personality it has.”

“The house just feels so empty without Tiger,” my husband adds. “Even I want another pet! I miss how he used to sit on my desk when I worked at the computer. How he….”

Melanie Hack
Author of Who Killed My Sister, My friend
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TV Shows and Clips about the Death of Cindy James