Jane 
It’s taken me weeks to write this. Not because I didn’t want to.
But because my heart has been too full of sadness and too broken to find the words.
On 11 April, my beloved cat Kitt died. And with her went a part of my daily rhythm, my sense of comfort, and, for a long while, my voice.
Kitt wasn’t just a pet. She was my empty nest shadow, my companion through midlife chaos, and my furry therapist on the hard days. She saw me in all my forms: exhausted, elated, anxious, inspired. She curled up beside me to watch TV, while I read and worked. She was my darling fur baby.
When she passed, the silence in the house was deafening.
And so I fell silent too, here, on this blog, in my usual routines, and in my sense of direction.
Grief in midlife is strange. It’s layered. You’re already managing hormone shifts, health concerns and career changes. Add loss to the mix, and suddenly even making toast feels like an achievement.
But I’m slowly coming back.
Not the same way. I never will be. But changed in a way that deserves to be witnessed.
Kitt’s death has sparked something in me. A need to re-evaluate. Reimagine. Rebrand, even. Life is too short to keep pretending we’re okay when we’re not, or to keep quiet when our stories might comfort someone else.
So, I’m returning to blogging not because I’ve “moved on”, I haven’t, but because I want to move forward. I want to talk more about what it means to grow through life, not just go through it. The messy, beautiful, transforming experience that midlife really is.
To anyone else grieving a pet, a friend, a partner, a child or any other loss, I send you hugs.
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