Have you ever cried in the shower so no one can hear you, then come out pretending you’re Beyoncé on a world tour?
Have you ever smiled in public while your heart was privately filing a complaint with the universe?
Have you ever looked around your house and realized that one tiny life leaving has made the entire place feel like an emotional haunted mansion?
And have you ever thought, “Wow… life can change in a second and I did not sign a consent form for this roller coaster”?
Welcome to my current season.
I am in one of those chapters where every moment feels fragile and sacred at the same time. The kind of season where you hold your breath a little longer because you know how quickly things can shift. My husband is in prison. My dad was suddenly put on a breathing machine. And my dear Swiss, my sweet, clingy, affectionate fur baby, passed away. All in what felt like a blink.
If life were a TV show, this would be the episode where the audience says, “Okay writers, relax. You’re doing too much.”
The last few days without Swiss have been really hard. I work. I cry. I work. I cry. It’s like my schedule now includes grief as a recurring appointment. If grief had a calendar invite, it would be marked as “daily, no end time.”
Swiss was not just a cat. Swiss was that kind of cat. The kind that makes you question everything you ever said about not being a cat person. I used to be one of those people who said, “I’m more of a dog person.” Swiss said, “That’s cute. Watch this.” And then he emotionally adopted me.
He loved me so much. He would give me kisses and little head nudges like he had a full-time job in emotional support. He was clingy in the best way. I was absolutely his mama. He followed me around like a tiny, furry bodyguard who got paid in treats and dramatic eye contact.
Every morning, he and Kiki would be right by my side. We had a routine. Tea, cuddles, and Swiss staring at me like I owed him rent. Now the mornings feel quieter. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you realize how loud love used to be.Losing a fur baby feels like losing family because it is losing family. People try to comfort you by saying, “It was just a pet.” I want to respond, “It was just a human who said that, and now I question our relationship.” Because if you know, you know.
The hardest part has been the little triggers. The spots where Swiss used to sit. The places where he would wait for me. I walk by and my brain still expects him to be there. Then reality taps me on the shoulder and says, “Nope.” And then I cry again like I just watched the last five minutes of a Pixar movie.
And then there’s Kiki. Kiki is Swiss’s wife. Yes, we acknowledge cat marriages in this house. For three days, she hid under the bed. Three days. She wouldn’t come out. It was like she was waiting for him to come home. Watching her grieve broke my heart all over again. I would try to coax her out like, “Girl, please. We cannot both be under the bed. One of us has to pay bills.”
But today, she finally started coming out. Slowly. Carefully. She walked into the living room and laid in her normal spots. I think she knows now. And even writing that makes my chest tighten. Because acceptance is peaceful but it also hurts.
I try not to focus on the negative during this season because I know it can tear me down. Trust me, my brain has already written several dramatic scripts. But I am trying to keep my eyes on the positive. Not in a fake, “everything is fine” way. More like a stubborn, faith-filled, “God is still here” way.
On the positive side, I have a venue where I will be starting my own weekly comedy shows. Yes. Because nothing says emotional healing like standing under bright lights telling strangers about your trauma while they drink overpriced cocktails. Comedy is my therapy with a microphone.
I am also hoping to start a podcast or talk show at this venue where I can do it live for everyone to watch. Will it be chaotic? Probably. Will I overshare? Absolutely. Will I cry and then make a joke five seconds later? Without a doubt. But I am excited for the future. I really am.
I know God’s hand is over me. I know blessings are coming. And I am grateful for that. Even when I’m crying in between emails.
I hired a comedy coach, and my first lesson was this morning. I told him everything that’s been going on in my life. The prison situation. My dad. Losing Swiss. All of it. He looked at me and said, “Wow. I can’t tell you’re going through all that. You seem joyful.”
And I thought, “Sir, that is called Jesus and a little bit of emotional denial.”
But truly, I know where my strength comes from. If I didn’t have my faith, if I didn’t have Jesus, I would be a mess. Not a cute, hot mess. A full, ugly cry, eating cereal out of a mixing bowl at 2 a.m. kind of mess. My peace doesn’t make sense sometimes. But it’s real. And I’m grateful.
I’m grateful for the people God has placed in my life. I’m grateful for the opportunities still unfolding. And I’m grateful for the fur babies He gave me, including Swiss. Even though it hurts that he’s gone, I’m thankful I got to love him at all. Some people never get that kind of love from a tiny creature with whiskers and an attitude.
I keep reminding myself that the best is yet to come. That phrase isn’t just a cute quote you put on a throw pillow. It’s a decision. It means that despite what you’re going through, you believe there’s something bigger ahead. It means you hold on even when your hands are tired.
It means you laugh even when there’s a lump in your throat.
It means you cry but you keep going.
It means you trust that God is working behind the scenes even when your current scene feels like a mess.
Swiss, I miss you very much. I love you and you’ll be in my heart forever. Thank you for loving me so loudly. Thank you for making me a cat person. Thank you for being my little shadow. I hope heaven has unlimited treats and the softest blankets.
If there’s a lesson in all of this, it’s this. Life is fragile. People and pets we love are not guaranteed tomorrow. So cherish the moments you have right now. Hug a little longer. Laugh a little louder. Say “I love you” even if it feels awkward. Take the photo. Hold the hand. Pet the cat. Text the friend. Pray the prayer.
Because everything can change in an instant. But love leaves a mark that doesn’t.
And if you’re in a hard season like me, hold on. Keep going. Cry if you need to. Laugh when you can. Trust that there is still goodness ahead. The best is still to come.
Remember you are my lovers, whether you love me or love to hate me you are still my lover!
Don’t forget Jesus loves you and so do I!