Coping with loss and grief

This week we had a truly amazing day at Anglia Ruskin University, where the Chelmsford Science and Engineering Society had invited us to attend their annual Christmas Lectures event, for which local schools are invited to attend free of charge, so the students can enjoy lectures on a variety of STEM subjects, presented by various industry professionals and learn about all sorts of courses available to them at the university and interesting careers that are out there. This year it was our turn, and I presented a fun lecture about human-animal relationships, looking at all the ways humans and animals have evolved together over millennia, how and why domestication came about, how animals serve and assist us, how we use animals in storytelling and how we train animals for human-animal interactions and film work here at Reptiles Etc, including behind the scenes video clips and live demos from some of our animal stars, and some thought provoking discussions in our Q and A session at the end thanks to loads of great questions from the 500 or so amazing students who attended across the two sessions. During the Q and A, one student absolutely flawed me with a question I've never been asked before while presenting, and that I was totally unprepared for. A young man of maybe 12 or 13 years raised his hand and described how he lost his pet about 6 months ago, asking, do I have any tips on how to deal with the grief. It is rare that I find myself lost for words but I had to take a beat or two before trying to tackle this huge and almost impossible question. Firstly I told him how sorry I was. Then I told him, and the room, that because I work with so many animals, loss is always inevitable, but whether it's an old animal and you know it's coming, or a horrible illness requiring round the clock care, or sudden and unexpected, it's always hard, and though you do get more used to it, some just hit harder than others, and some losses feel like they will never heal.

I told the story of my pet rook, Eddie, who I rescued and raised as a baby, and who was my constant companion, and best friend for 12 years before he was tragically killed unexpectedly by a bird of prey through the mesh of his aviary, where he should have been safe inside. A one in a million freak occurrence, my vet said after discovering what happened by post mortem, and such a cruelty given the Eddie spent 50% of his time roaming freely and not in his aviary. I lost Eddie 2 years ago yet still feel a gaping hole in me that I cannot fill. I didn't mention it then for risk of weeping in front of this large audience I was there to inspire, but I buried Eddie in a big pot on my patio and planted blue and purple flowers, like the iridescent sheen on his feathers, with an engraved slate memorial stone, and when the irises spring up and bloom each year around his anniversary I feel a bit closer to him as his energy seems to come alive there and I'm reminded of life's natural cycles, and keeping it tidy feels like I'm still taking care of him. I kept the sticks that he (and I) made his last nest with and I have some of his molted feathers as keep sakes. I tried to offer some comfort to the boy by telling him all we can do is know that we have given our animals the best life we possibly can, as is our responsibility as animal carers, and look back on the good times, knowing we did our best for them, and give ourselves time, and allow ourselves to grief and feel all the feelings without shame, and know that he is not alone in his grief. Not enough allowance is given to the grief of losing animal companions in our society, and needing time or support to come to terms with loss can be overlooked compared to loss of human family, but I don't believe it is any less valid, though I understand how hard it could be for someone who hasn't shared their life with animals to comprehend.

I recently heard a radio piece about this very subject which I thought very heartening, opening up the conversation for young people to feel able to talk about the loss of animal companions and not feel any stigma or shame around the subject. I was amazed by the bravery of this young man to stand up and share his loss, and ask my advice in front of an auditorium of maybe 400 other kids and I hope my story and words helped him, even if only a little, since I wasn't able to give a very tangible answer to his problem, and I hope he was able to feel less alone in his journey moving forward without his friend, knowing that all of us as animal people understand the feeling of these emotions and are in community together.

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