Grief of a Lokean

Well. This is a blog I didn’t think that I would have to write about for quite some time yet. Here we are though, as for us mortal creatures death is inevitable and we all realize at some point life is transitory.

For some the reason of this will not be understood or thought foolish, and honestly they can. I don’t care. We recently had to say goodbye to our beloved feline companion, Rosie. She found her way to us and I think that the adopting was a mutual thing. She was not what many would call a beautiful cat, but for us Rosie was the bestest pud-pud in the whole world. She was missing an eye because before she came to us some teens with a pellet rifle decided she would make a good target. Half her tail was missing and what was left had a badly healed break. Yet despite all this, she was the gentlest and most “proper” cat I have ever known. She never got on counters. Wouldn’t get in your face. Would only beg treats when she saw the treat bag (or Momma had milk).

Rosie was a member of the family, not a pet, not a companion. She was a member of the house and was always taken into consideration when household decisions were being made. And now she’s gone from this life. She got ill suddenly and went downhill quickly. The hard decision was reached not to let her suffer and so we took her to the vet clinic for mercy. I do not know how many of you realize that it’s a two part process; one shot as a sedative, a second to complete the transition.

The sedative was administered and the staff left the room to give it time to work. My wife and I were there with her, giving her touches and comfort to so she would know she wasn’t alone. As the sedative took effect her purr slowly faded. And so did her breath, which slowly and gently stopped. The second shot wasn’t even needed, Rosie let go quietly and peacefully, her family with her as we promised.

She was buried under the shade of a tree in the country, a place where birds nest and lightning bugs gather. My wife and eldest daughter had prepared the grave ahead of time, with silent tears and reverence we gave her back to the Earth. When it was done my wife and daughter went to wash the shovels, I stayed. I felt the need to say a farewell and a blessing (as a reverend it just seemed needed), and so I did. And at the end of it I asked the spirit to say Hello to my beloved boxer when she got to the bridge.

It was then, standing there alone, after all was said and done, that I broke down into tears. Hard, powerful tears full of loss and grief for the loss of a family member. This was two days ago, and I still grieve. I still feel the loss.

At this point I am sure that you are wondering what does this have to do with the grief of a Lokean. Well let’s take a look back at the way Lokeans are perceived by both the general public and Heathens. It can range from MCU super-fans to Norse Satan Worshipers and everything in between. The truth is that for me personally, and for Lokeans I know, emotions are powerful and always just below the surface. We tend to feel things VERY deeply from love to grief to anger to hope. What most of the world will see however is what we WANT them to see. The mask.

But grief? Strong enough greif, any emotion felt too strongly, but especially grief can make that mask slip. I joke about not being allowed at funerals, but it is true. I really shouldn’t go for the sake of the grieving. Because my grief, as well as for some others I know, comes in the form of the normal tears yes, but also a fierce need to celebrate life! To remember the one passed on and make certain their name is etched into the hearts of all in attendance! For death is a reminder we are all simply on the same journey and we have free will. Do we honestly weep for the departed or do we weep for ourselves and our loss?

I BELIEVE in my path, in what comes next, and my Gods and Goddesses. I have FAITH that what I believe is true for ME. And I know that whatever waits on the other side of that veil for me will not keep me away from those I love, no matter where they are residing. My grief will come in the form of determination, to keep moving forward with those passed on etched into my heart. I will celebrate their life with joy and laughter and LIFE! I will give offering to Loki and Hel and other Rökkr for the departed. And in this case a prayer of veneration to Freya to watch over Rosie with love and kindness. Yes, I hurt, I am in pain, but how does this do honor to the memory of one who also knew these things and survived, kept surviving, and found her place finally?

The Grief of a Lokean is the low burning fire that kin gather around and share stories and laughter. It is the stories of the departed that are silly and amazing and proud. It is the tears of a heavy heart that fall over a wide smile. It is the lone scream in the night for our own loss. And it is the moving forward with more stories to carry.