The drumbeat

A plea not to ignore the small, even annoying, things in life

This past Tuesday we suddenly and very unexpectedly lost our oldest cat Jonah. You can read about it here on Facebook if you’d like.

I am still gutted from this, and it hangs over my head every waking hour. A friend (hi Brent) said to me over text, “You must both be in a daze,” and the more I wade through the days, the more that’s apt. You’re just dazed. Nothing’s ever quite in focus, and sometimes it’s almost as if you’re watching yourself navigate through your life. It’s like the worst 3rd person video game ever.

What really hits me, though, are the mornings. I get up earlier than my wife every day. Those morning hours are defined by ritual and some quiet time before my day starts with meetings and calls and life’s louder noises.

Jonah used to get up with me every single morning. He never missed one, ever, in 12 years. I’d get up, and he’d strut in the bathroom with me chirping and meowing incessantly because he knew food was coming.

I’d go out to the kitchen - with Jonah leading the way, of course, looking back at me to make sure I was still following him, because you know I might bolt back to bed in an epic gotcha sucker! moment and not feed him until hours later - and continue to squeak and meow at me until I fed him. That used to annoy me - the constant, desperate meowing for food like he just got back from a Hanoi POW camp and hadn’t eaten solid food in years.

Now, I can’t stand the silence. It’s almost ominous. I’d pay to hear those chirps again.

After he ate, I’d usually be on the couch with my laptop checking emails. Jonah would hop on the couch and curl up at my feet and stay there for a good hour.

The small things are the background music to our life, and the tiniest, most insignificant-seeming the drumbeat. Jonah was the drumbeat of our house. His personality and quirks, while charmingly annoying at times, are now the missing backbeat of our lives. We both notice it. It’s like a book’s spine got broken and now the pages aren’t really sure how to organize themselves. Our family is a bunch of instruments learning to play again.

It really fucking sucks.

Never take your drumbeat for granted. Whether that’s making your kids’ lunches, brewing coffee for your spouse, or letting your dogs out - never be annoyed by them. They are a sanctuary.

They are your drumbeat.

And drumbeats are life.

We tend to learn this the hard way, in the confusing vacuum of a loss. Remember that the awareness of halcyon moments is retroactive - in other words, do everything you can to appreciate the present moment.

Especially if it’s a drumbeat.