After Loss, I Understood This About Love

My mother died 10 years ago. I couldn’t be there when she died, but I did spend some quality time with her a couple of months before, so I felt I was almost there for her.

But still, after she died, the biggest feeling I had was guilt. I remember apologising to her at the funeral. Why did I feel guilt? Although we lived thousands of miles apart as adults, I visited her almost annually with my children, and we had a very normal mother–daughter relationship. Of course, there were times we exchanged harsh words, but we did spend our last time together in peace and contentment.

When someone dies, it is definite. Normally, if you argue with someone, you can apologise and make amends. But with death, it’s final. You cannot do anything or say anything to make things better. So even if you had a good, normal relationship, there are things you regret—and nothing can be done any longer.

This year, my cat died. I say “suddenly”, but he was 19 years and 7 months old, so it was not unexpected. I took him to the vet to be put to sleep, but I think I only hastened the process of his death by a day or so. So in that sense, I don’t feel guilty.

But I still have regrets, because I withheld love.

He was such a beloved cat in our family, but as a cat being a cat, he was sometimes aloof. He was never a lap cat and tolerated cuddles rather than enjoying them. A gentle, sweet-natured, easygoing cat, but also independent—and he didn’t seem to miss us if we were away on holiday.

And that is one of the reasons I love cats. They are independent and not needy. They are good company but never too close. Cats, in general, don’t get attached to humans, and my cat was like that too.

But after his death, I began to wonder—perhaps he loved us. Perhaps he loved me more than anyone else (as I lived with him longer than any other family member). Maybe he thought I was his mum and had a lot of love for me.

Then I suddenly felt guilty. I withheld love because I thought I wouldn’t get it back. Now, looking back, I feel he loved us very much in his own funny, kitty way. I should have expressed my love to him more. I should have cuddled him more. I should have allowed myself to love him fully.

And now it all makes sense. I understand why I felt guilty when my mother died. Because I held back my love for a mixture of reasons. Perhaps I was angry about some aspects of our relationship. Perhaps I took my mother for granted. Perhaps expressing love is not our cultural way. Whatever the reason, I think we feel guilt when loved ones die because we didn’t allow ourselves to love enough—or didn’t express that love enough.

Maybe sometimes we are too proud. Or we have some kind of love manipulation tactics. Or life gets too busy (yes, yes). Or perhaps we’re simply not used to expressing it. But unless you express it, the other person may never know.

So if you love someone, or if someone is important to you, say it. Express it. Sometimes it is scary. Sometimes it is embarrassing. Sometimes you may not even get love back. But it doesn’t matter, because you love and you care. That’s reason enough.