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Life After Loss
Life after losing my devoted cat, Orion, has been difficult. Honoring his legacy has given me something steady to hold onto. I’ve gathered a few small constellations – scattered points of light that, when held together, have guided me through the darkness of grief. I share them here in the hope that they might offer a gentle glow to anyone navigating their own loss.
Communal Support
The first thing I did after Orion received his fatal diagnosis was inform my circle of support. Comfort arrived in beautiful, unexpected ways: texts, calls, check-ins, flowers, and cards from Dr. Russell and Dr. Makowski, the veterinarians who compassionately diagnosed him and guided his peaceful passing.
We are deeply grateful for the kindness that surrounded us during that tender time. Out of their own care, friends and family supported both Cameron and me, and we will always be thankful for their generosity of heart.
Orion’s Lair
Immediately after Orion’s departure, I began channeling my grief into an at-home project: transforming the corner where his food and litter box had once lived. I affectionately named it Orion’s Lair, a small, sacred space to honor his legacy and the everyday companionship he brought to our home.
It was healing to give my sadness a productive distraction right away, creating something that would tangibly memorialize him for years to come.
Orion’s Relics
While tending Orion’s Lair, I mindfully arranged his framed nose print, paw imprint, and fur bottle on a table nearby – relics I had received after his passing. When his urn arrived on Friday the 13th, I placed it alongside them.
I liked imagining him there, watching over and approving, before his final journey into the yard.
Orion’s Purple Mystic
Purple Mystic, a cubensis mushroom strain I love, fruited first beneath the full Snow Moon – just two days after Orion’s passing. I named the batch Orion’s Purple Mystic and gifted microdoses to a few special people.
Their subtle support helped me stay present and feel more connected to others.
A couple of weeks later, I plucked a cluster of four from another Purple Mystic harvest, noticing the absence of a fifth. Our family felt incomplete as Orion lingered like a shadow in the house. At times, I thought I heard him, catching traces of his familiar presence just out of reach.
Then I noticed light from a sun catcher in my lab reflecting onto the wall. In that moment – Orion was there – and I was instantly relieved.
Orion in Oaxaca
In early March, I traveled through Oaxaca with Cam and another couple. The trip was magical, carrying me steadfastly through my grief.
Orion was with me the entire time. On the first day, he appeared in the streets as a graffiti kitty. A couple of nights later, I noticed him above me as Orion’s Belt in the black sky.
He remained my celestial constant for the rest of the trip, loyally watching over me.
Friday the 13th
Friday the 13th became a(nother) significant date in Orion’s legacy, appearing three unmistakable times. Two even landed on the exact same day and month: Friday, March 13th.
Orion was cremated by Lasting Paws Pet Memorial on Saturday, February 7th, and ready to come home on Friday, February 13th. The timing was unplanned until the call came that morning, but I imagined scattering his ashes the next day – Valentine’s Day – keeping him our forever valentine. Life intervened and the moment passed.
A few days later, while talking with my sister Gina, I admitted the quiet guilt I carried for missing that poetic opportunity. She pointed out that in 2026, February and March shared the exact same calendar. Why not scatter his ashes in March instead?
We didn’t realize it at the time, but her insight allowed Orion’s legacy to come full circle. The very day and month he first appeared in my photos would also mark his final resting place beneath the open sky – scattered like starlight across his favorite spots in the yard on Friday, March 13th.
Scattered Like Starlight
The weather was beautiful the afternoon of Friday, March 13th, offering my family of four the precious gift of returning Orion to the places in the yard he loved most.
Our ritual was simple: we walked around the yard together, scattering Orion’s essence in his chosen spots.
With each handful, a feeling of peace settled over me. He was ready to be outside, and I knew it was time to let him go. I felt comforted knowing he would remain, ever watchful, in the yard.
I found a sun catcher urn that perfectly captured the way his light filled my lab during the Purple Mystic harvest just weeks prior. A small part of him rested within the star locket, placed there moments before his peaceful passage outdoors.
That evening, when Cam and I walked in from dinner, he shone brilliantly on the wall…our eternal star.
Honoring Legacy
Grief has a way of slowing time, giving space for gentle healing to root. Finding grounding in grief has never come easily for me. Honoring Orion’s legacy has been profoundly cathartic, allowing me to pause, reflect, and fully witness the mystical moments of his journey I might have otherwise rushed past.
Orion was the tiny, majestic panther who – as my late Uncle Ian said – chose me, loved me unconditionally, and nursed me through my darkest moments.
Then, at the (estimated) age of sweet 16, he peacefully taught me how to journey back to the stars and keep his light alive.
Our bond is permanently sacred.
I will always miss Orion.
And when I see a black cat – like this one spotted on Tuesday, March 17th, 2026 – or glimpse Orion’s Belt in the sky, I know he’s still with me…woven into the small constellations that continue to guide me forward.
