Most Beloved Cat: A Heartfelt Journey of Love and Loss

Most Beloved Cat: A Touching Tale of Love and Loss

Summary

In Most Beloved: A Heartfelt Journey of Love and Loss, Most Beloved, a little white cat, recounts her journey from being found shivering and starving under a garden shed to becoming a beloved companion. Rescued by a veterinary technician, she was named “Merry” and nursed back to health. Now, facing the end of her life, Most Beloved expresses her love and concern for her owner, who is grieving the loss of her son, Dylan.

Introduction

Most Beloved: A Heartfelt Journey of Love and Loss is a moving account of the deep bond between Most Beloved, a little white cat, and the author, capturing the essence of companionship that transcends the ordinary. Most Beloved has blogged ever so faithfully at Gardens at Effingham (www.gardensateffingham.com) these past few years, sharing delightful anecdotes, heartwarming moments, and the ups and downs of life that resonate with anyone who has ever loved a pet.

Through charming tales and tender reflections, this narrative of Most Beloved: A Heartfelt Journey of Love and Loss demonstrates how a small pet can leave an indelible mark on one’s life, showcasing not only the joy of their shared experiences but also the profound sadness that accompanies loss.

This is a true story of a little white cat who was there for me at a time I wasn’t sure I would make it through the devastating loss of my son to suicide. A companion to my grief, Most Beloved offered unconditional love and comfort.

Most Beloved: A Heartfelt Journey of Love and Loss

Most Beloved: A Heartfelt Journey of Love and Loss is a moving account of the deep bond between Most Beloved, a little white cat, and the author. Most Beloved has blogged ever so faithfully at Gardens at Effingham these past few years.

Related Reads

• Grieving Dylan: A Heartfelt Tribute
• Finding Hope in Nature’s Resilience
• My Forever Son, My Beloved Dylan: Just Breathe
• My Forever Son, My Beloved Dylan : Suicide: It Never Lets Go
• “Once Upon a Blue-Sky Moon”: A Heartfelt Poem on Losing My Son to Suicide
  

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Most Beloved: The Adorable Little White Cat Overflowing with Love

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Cherished Moments with Most Beloved: A Touching Journey of Love and Loss

From the Journals of Most Beloved

May 16th

I have, for 10 years, called Gardens at Effingham my home. I live in the big house with She-who-loves-me-most, and I tend to all of the garden cats who roam the many gardens.

I write cat tales where I tattle on the garden cats, share photos of the beautiful gardens, and journal throughout the four seasons of the year. Sometimes, I craft a small poem or song.

She-who-loves-me-most has held me and comforted me, fed me and kept me close. I sleep in my little red bed while she-who-loves-me most goes clickety-clakety at her desk.

As I’ve gazed out the window of the music room, I’ve helped write volumes of blog entries, shaped heartfelt poems, and encouraged she- who-loves-me-most at the times she needed it most.

How Did I Come To Be Most Beloved?

The Garden Shed

Once upon a snowy winter’s evening, a little boy found me shivering and terribly hungry. I hid from the bitter cold under a garden shed, but the little boy cried out to Mommy, “Mew, Mew-Mew, Mew” over and over until she peeked down to see me.

I made myself very small.

Unbeknownst to me, ’twas the Christmas season, so the little boy and his mommy (who was a veterinary technician) named me “Merry”. I was so scared. I didn’t want to be picked up, but I was tiny and starving and when the boy’s mommy reached down to scoop me up, I didn’t resist.

The boy’s mommy’s carried me inside the veterinarian’s clinic where, most fortunate for me, she worked; in fact, the garden shed where I was huddled belonged to the veterinarian. The shed was just behind her veterinarian clinic. Once inside I was placed with several other cats who seemed in need of a forever home. I was frightened of other cats. And dogs. And all animals, even people.

Something bad had happened to me, and I’m not sure if I don’t remember or if I don’t want to remember. Somehow I chipped one of my fangs. Perhaps that’s why I was starving. I was too small to fend for myself. Eventually, I had to have 5 teeth removed because no one had taken good care of me.

Between Christmas and February, I gained nearly a pound, a good thing as I was still far below a normal weight for a young cat. They guessed I was a little less than a year old, but I weighed less than 5 pounds. I was tiny. And starving. Did I mention starving?

A New Home

One day, still February, someone came to look for a cat to adopt. All of the other cats sang out “Choose me! Pick me!” but I didn’t want to go any place. I had finally found a warm place where there was food available.

I stayed very quiet and made myself very small.

She-who-loves-me-most rescued me 9 years ago when I was nearly a year old. I was tiny and starving in the midst of a terribly cold December. I was missing a canine tooth, severely underweight, and skittish and frightened. I’ve written more about how I was found and rescued at Meet Most Beloved Cat: Her Backstory Writes the Tales

Hiding Under the Bed of She-Who-Loves-Me-Most

For awhile (and because I’d never been loved), I stayed under the bed of she-who-loves-me-most. I would wait for her light to go out at night, then I’d come out to eat, drink a little water, and explore my new surroundings. By morning, I’d be back under her bed, tucked away and uncertain about my surroundings.

Little by little, she-who-loves-me-most coaxed me out from under her bed. She sat down on the floor with her acoustic guitar and sang me a song that she said was just for me:

She’s a snow-white pearl

She’s the prettiest girl in the whole wide world

Still skittish but drawn to her soothing voice, I started coming out from under the bed and into the light of day. I knew she needed me just as much as I needed her.

I didn’t know she had lost her son, Dylan, in 2012, but I felt her deep, deep sorrow, and I drew close to comfort her. When she cried, I came to hold her tears. When she looked so sad, I climbed into her lap and purred to help ease her pain.

Not Wanting to Go, But Being Too Sick to Stay

And slowly but surely, the days passed by, the months passed by, and suddenly I find myself here–not wanting to go, but being too sick to stay. I don’t want she-who-loves-me-most to be alone. To cry alone. To be without my comfort. But the veterinarian said there isn’t anything that can be done.

Some lives are lived faster than others

Some lives are lived faster than others. Mine is only 10 years, but I’ve loved all 9 years with her. We’ve read books together, held one another, been there for one another, and I’ve kept watch over all the garden cats as they come and go.

Who will comfort her now?

Who will watch the cats now? Who will comfort her now? How can I tell her how much I love her and how scared I am to leave her alone? She is all I’ve known these past 9 years, and she’s given me so much love.

Chasing Butterflies in Meadows Filled with Flowers

She-who-loves-me-most tells me I’m going to Rainbow Bridge where I’ll chase butterflies in meadows filled with flowers of all kinds and colors. There will be other cats to play with, she tells me, and most of all, she says, I won’t feel any more pain.

I want so much to stay, but life is not like that. I hold on tightly to the last bit of life left in me, cling to her lap, hold her and feel her soothing and rocking me. Her tears are wet against my white fur.

“I will always love you,” I whisper. I can feel myself slip, slip, slipping away, so sleepy, drifting away. I close my eyes.

“I will always love you,” she whispers.

“And I will never leave you,” I whisper back.

Author’s Note: A Poetic Quest for Healing After Losing My Son

Twelve years ago, I lost my 20-year-old son, Dylan, to suicide, a heartbreaking event that shattered my world and plunged me into a dark period of grief.

During those long months, I found myself grappling with overwhelming emotions and thoughts, questioning everything around me and struggling to make sense of what will never make sense. I entered into a deep grief filled with solitude and despair, a darkness so bleak I questioned ever being able to see light again.

In the beginning, I had no words. No voice. No ability to express the grief I was feeling.

My words were lost in torrents of tears, in stark contrast to the vibrant discussions I used to lead in my college composition and literature classes.

Perhaps it’s important to preface that I was teaching college composition and literature when I lost my son to suicide, a tragedy that shattered all of me. The irony of discussing the complexities of human emotion with my students while grappling with my own profound sorrow was not lost on me.

Each day, I faced the challenge of maintaining my professional facade, all the while battling an internal tempest that seemed insurmountable, wondering how to bridge the chasm between my role as an educator and the personal devastation I was enduring.

My Life Before Losing My Son

Books, lectures, teaching—I once felt empowered by my voice, a resonant tool for sharing ideas and knowledge. It was a time when I believed in the strength of my words and the influence they carried, inspiring others to think deeply and engage in meaningful conversations.

I reveled in the connections I forged through sharing my thoughts, feeling a sense of purpose in my contributions to the world. But when Dylan died by suicide, I felt consumed by my grief. My heart collapsed inward in sharp pain, I retreated from the outside world, and my words eluded me.

Teaching was impossible. Losing Dylan shattered my life, leaving me, on the outside at least, grappling with an overwhelming silence that echoed louder than any lecture or written page.

On the inside, I was screaming sounds I did not recognize as my own.

The Depth of My Loss Brought My Life to a Standstill

The vibrant energy that once fueled my passion for writing vanquished, and I found myself questioning everything without being able to lend voice to the confusion and overwhelming feelings I was moving through in my grief.

The depth of my loss silenced the joy I once derived from sharing my thoughts and connecting with others.

All of my life came to a standstill as I entered a place of deep grief. It is only in retrospect and in these twelve years past my son’s suicide that I see how all-consuming my grief was.

Diminishing the confidence that fuels expression, my grief stifled my voice completely. It’s been a difficult battle to reclaim my sense of self amidst such sorrow.

A Poetic Quest for Self-Forgiveness and Healing

Journaling was awkward. I couldn’t put all the pain I was feeling into words that did justice to the enormity of my heartbreak. But I kept writing. Slowly, in keeping a record of my grief, I realized I was creating a poetic journey about losing a child to suicide.

“Find Hope Here: Poetic Reflections on Grief and Healing”

Find Hope Here: Poetic Reflections on Grief and Healing is a heartfelt collection of poems and reflections by Beth Brown, the compassionate voice behind the My Forever Son blog. This poignant work navigates the deep, overwhelming sorrow that accompanies the tragic loss of a child to suicide. In her writing, Brown bravely shares her personal journey through grief, revealing how the act of writing poetry and connecting with the beauty of nature became vital sources of comfort and healing for her in the midst of such profound pain.

Through the author’s heartfelt verses, she reaches out with warmth and understanding to those who are journeying through their own sorrows. With her enchanting photography of the trees, shrubs, and flowers that grace her gardens throughout the seasons, Brown lovingly shares a beacon of hope, brightly illuminating the shadows cast by grief.

On Finding Hope: Photographing My Gardens Brings Healing

In nature, I find calm in the wake of profound sorrow and healing in the cycling of the seasons. Predictable. Beautiful in the spring, promising renewal after a long winter’s rest. Brilliant hues in the summer months. Autumn bringing trees and shrubs bejeweled in vivid reds, oranges, and reds. And then the stillness and monochromatic sketch of what can be a too long winter’s sleep.

Winter Wonderland: Captivating Photos in My Gardens

A Long Winter’s Rest for Trees, Shrubs, and Flowers

This dormant season in winter echoes the hopelessness of my grief: everything feels, looks, seems bleak and forsaken.

This dormant season in winter echoes the hopelessness of my grief: everything feels, looks, seems bleak and forsaken. An empty landscape. Gray skies for months. A blanket of snow in white, though only the stark limbs of trees and shrubs. At times, though, red berries appear on some shrubs, supplying food for birds and wildlife. All this to say I can’t see life against this wintry scene.

But in photographing nature through the seasons, I began to see (again), the brilliance of a long winter’s rest for trees, shrubs, and flowers. To study nature and botany is to realize that what appears lifeless is actually the process of life within all of nature renewing itself. Trusting in what I cannot see brings hope and healing.

Spring Brings Hope: Photographs of My Gardens

Spring Brings Beauty and Hope

Even against the cold remnants of a long winter–scattered clumps of snow, a robin redbreast plumped out to keep itself warm against a late March frost, brown dried leaves with nary a sign of color anywhere, spring breaks through. At first just small bits of color. A hint of purple as crocus push through thawing ground, then the vivid yellows of daffodils leaning towards the sun and the suddenness of blue bells. Rhododendron yawns and stretches its lavender limbs to awaken azalea, still sleepy with snow though greening beneath it all.

What seems forever gone in the gray doldrums of winter arrives with an abundance of joy come spring.

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Writing My Way Through Grief to Find Hope and Healing

Snippets of language emerged as poetic reflections

Three years into my grief, I began writing journal entries. Short. A few feelings. About my day and where I was in my grief journey. Then slowly, snippets of language emerged as poetic reflections. Words shaped the deep feelings and emotional longing in my heart, and as I continued writing, I began to find small glimpses of hope in unexpected ways.

Photographing my gardens garnered a way to coalesce all the many feelings and words I’d been unable to express. And the more I photographed through the seasons, the more glimmers of hope I found along the way.

Each poignant poem in Find Hope Here: Poetic Reflections on Grief and Healing is a dedicated blog post in its own right, replete with the inspiration behind the poem.

The poems included in Find Hope Here: Poetic Reflections on Grief and Healing appear below. Each poem is a blog post in its own right, oftentimes replete with the inspiration behind the poem.

Each poem moves the reader through the profound emotions of grief and healing after losing a child.

Many of the poems tell narratives I remember from my son’s childhood. This is significant–reconstructing the narrative of our lives during his growing-up years brings release for all the love and beautiful memories before the trauma of losing him. Writing these poems and narratives, these poetic reflections on love and loss, have helped me learn to carry love and ache together.

Still I write. Still I heal. Still I miss my son.

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From Shattered Hearts to Quiet Hope: Poems and Reflections for Parents of Suicide Loss

Find Hope Here: Poetic Reflections on Grief and Healing

If you are reading this, you know the unique and overwhelming grief of losing a child to suicide. This collection is for you—a place to find words and images that honor your pain, offer comfort, and gently invite hope.

Curated by Beth Brown, who lost her only child, her 20-year-old son Dylan, to suicide, these poems and reflections move through the rawness of early trauma, the depths of acute grief, and the slow journey toward healing, even thirteen years later. Each post pairs heartfelt writing with stunning garden photography, inspired by Beth’s own search for solace in nature’s resilience.

Hope can be quiet—listen for it in moments of rest.

You are invited to explore at your own pace. Choose what resonates—whether it’s a poem that mirrors your sorrow, a reflection that offers comfort, or an image that whispers hope. For more resources, stories, and support, visit the My Forever Son blog and discover a community that understands.

Contemplation Prompt:
Pause with a garden image. What does it say to you about survival, growth, or hope?

About the Author, Beth Brown: Writing My Way Through Grief

The love you shared endures beyond loss.

This collection is lovingly curated by Beth Brown, a mother who lost her only child, her 20-year-old son Dylan, to suicide. Over thirteen years, Beth’s journey through the depths of grief has been shaped by poetry, reflection, and the healing presence of her gardens. Through My Forever Son, she shares how nature’s resilience and beauty offer moments of solace and hope, even in the face of unimaginable loss.

Explore These Poems and Reflections at Your Own Pace

You are invited to explore these poems and reflections at your own pace. Each post pairs heartfelt words with stunning garden photography, offering comfort, understanding, and gentle encouragement for wherever you are in your grief. Select what speaks to you—let these pages be a companion on your path toward healing. For more resources, stories, and support, visit the My Forever Son blog and discover a community that understands.

Journaling Prompt:
What memories of your child bring both tears and warmth? Write a few lines, letting your heart speak freely.

You are not alone. Healing is a journey, and hope can bloom—even here.

Message of Hope:
Even in the darkest seasons, a single flower can remind us that beauty and life persist. Let these poems be gentle companions as you move through your grief.

Embracing Grief: A Mother’s Poetic Journey

From journaling to discovering the poetic language that encapsulates my grief, I penned my path to healing, culminating in the creation of my book, Bury My Heart: 19 Poems for Grief and Healing After Losing a Child to Suicide.

The anthology of poems in this book provides a profound and moving examination of grief, intricately intertwining original verses that delve into themes of loss, guilt, hope, self-forgiveness, and the path to healing. Expertly curated, the arrangement of poems invites deep reflection, serving as a treasured companion for those in search of solace and connection during difficult times.