Using Stories in the Grieving Process

We took in a stray cat several months ago and named her Juliet.  Actually, it turned out we took in three cats, because she was already expecting.  My granddaughter, seven year old Kayleigh, immediately claimed her as her own.  She took her to bed at night, fed  her, played with her and loved her.  She even cleaned out the kitty litter.  When the mama cat was ready to deliver the babies, she delivered the first one in Kayleigh’s hair in the middle of the night.  Now, that’s a bonding experience.

We usually kept Juliet in the house, but one night she ran out the front door.  If you’ve ever owned a cat, you know you don’t coax a cat home if she’s not willing.  We kept opening the door and calling to her, but finally had to go to bed, hoping she’d come back when she was ready.

The next morning my husband left early before the sun came up, and there was our little Juliet, laying by the side of the road.  He said it was apparent she hadn’t suffered.  But our hearts hurt at the thought of having to tell Kayleigh.

Soon, I could hear Kayleigh’s footsteps upstairs as she anxiously ran around looking for Juliet, calling her name.  She came running into the kitchen: “Where’s Juliet?”  My daughter put her arms around her, and with lots of tears, told her what had happened.    

Kayleigh didn’t say anything, but ran into her bedroom where she drew a picture of Juliet lying on the foot of her bed, nursing her two little babies.  She glued it to a simple paper picture frame and hung it next to her bed.  There were tears on the picture.  Later in the day she created a little book by stapling some papers together.  The first picture was Juliet on the back patio when she found her. There was a drawing of the night the kitten was born in her hair.  And then came the hardest drawing of all–drawing a car with headlights and Juliet running towards it.  The final picture was out under the trees with the leaves falling all around where Juliet was buried.

Within a few days, Kayleigh’s dad came home from a deployment and the family moved back on the army base.  Dad said, “No more cats.”  He’s not heartless.  Just practical.  And Kayleigh became quiet and withdrawn. She continued to draw cats- hundreds and millions and billions of cats. But in the busy-ness of life and moving, the stories had stopped.   One day I suggested to her dad that he take time to ask Kayleigh to share the stories about Juliet and they started flooding out of her heart. She told him about the time Juliet left a ‘gift’ of a dead mouse on the basement floor.  And how, one time,  Juliet carried one of her baby kittens upside down-- by her bottom. She always told that story with a giggle.  And, of course, how the baby came to be born in her hair in the middle of the night.  And in so doing, once again moved along the process of healing a broken heart.

Kayleigh started smiling and laughing again.

Without the stories, raw emotions can be unbearable.  Stories help us sort through feelings and provide a means of releasing them.

Stories are a powerful heart-healer.