I enjoy taking pictures of the sky. I’m not very clever or artsy about it, but there is something powerful and magical about remembering to look up. Of course I can barely capture the magnificence of the sky with my smart phone, but I snap away on my walks anyway.

Thursday, January 22, 2026 I took a long walk to help my building grief. The vet had told us earlier that day it was time for our sweet cat of eighteen years to be at peace. This was his sunset.

I cried and thought as I walked and, as always, looked at the sky. The sunset was beautiful.

Sunsets are a poetic way of referring to death. It sounds sweeter, more gentle; less painful for those watching. And, perhaps, more hopeful for those who are leaving us.

As the sun reaches the horizon, bursts of color stretch through the sky – reflections of what was; the ending of what is.

For William, eighteen years is a good, long life for the sweetest, most snugly kitty. The vet reassured us eighteen was a good lifespan, and he filled every second of those with purrs, snuggles, and sweetness. His life’s purpose was to eat and be snuggled – both of equal value!

His sunset came soon after the sunset of a dear friend whose lifespan was shortened by cancer. From my perspective, those skies were not full of the gentle pinks and soft blues. I still struggle to find the beauty in her passing – though the reflections of her life are full of vibrant passion.

Sometimes we cannot see the sunset behind the dark storm.

And there is the sum of my reflections for now. I am heavy with grief and do not know how well I am communicating.

Thank you for reading.