Bittersweet Joy

joybrownridge
Sep 7
2 min read

This week I said goodbye to my best good friend of the last 11 years, my constant companion, my fur-son HeMan. HeMan was more than a cat. He was a supervisor, a rude bully, a cuddler, a motivator, and more. Living with him for so many years gave my days a certain routine. I knew what the top priority was when I opened my eyes: his breakfast. I knew that I couldn't stay working at my desk too long. I knew the exact order in which I needed to complete the various tasks to "get ready for sleeping". And now, I have to be the boss of myself. Now, I have to create my own routines, and make sure I am the one who remembers to take regular breaks, and go to bed on time. My sweet baby will not be bullying me into compliance.

While my heart is completely broken, it's also remembering and cherishing the time we had together. I can tell you about the way he would get in my face if I tried to stay up too late. Or how he would increase the volume of his meows if I didn't move quickly enough for his liking. And I'll smile at the same time that I'm sad. HeMan wanted to enjoy himself always. He was going to get his fair share of daily joy, no matter what it took. And maybe that's why I'm so adamant about the topic myself.

That's why I'm bothering to write today, so soon after this immense loss. I'm writing because I want to prove that we can always find some way to choose joy, even just a small bit of it. It may be bittersweet. It may be joy experienced at the same time as tears of sadness. But there's always a way to find a bit of joy. We just have to have the stubbornness and determination of a cat named HeMan.