by Audrey Poff

There are some stories that just need to sit awhile before they can be shared. This is one of them.

As we scrambled to get everything ready for our Thanksgiving meal in 2016, Rodney and I made a quick trip to a nearby store that morning to look at a sofa that was included in the early holiday sales. We were hosting a large group of friends and family in Downtown Jonesboro that afternoon, and the sofa would give our guests a comfortable seating area where they could relax after the meal.

I remained at the store after we made the purchase while Rodney drove a few blocks back to our house to get the truck. When he returned, I opened the door to get inside and noticed that Rodney looked rather distraught. What he said next was alarming.

“Baby, I think I killed the cat,” he said, obviously still in shock from what had happened at the house.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I was sad but also a little confused. My first thought was that if someone tells you they “think” they killed the cat, that ship has likely sailed. Cats may have nine lives but this one had already used up many of his.

Now, before you cast judgment on our turkey day disaster, you should know that our beloved cat, Louis, was suicidal by nature. I am serious. Louis had a very bad habit of entering the garage as we pulled the car inside. He loved to rub against the tire as the car moved slowly forward. Despite slowing the vehicle down to a crawl, Louis had laid down under my front wheel twice before, resulting in near death experiences requiring lengthy stays at the vet hospital. Unfortunately, Louis’ third attempt – this time with Rodney behind the wheel – was successful and he did not survive.

With family en route to our Thanksgiving celebration downtown, we had little time to have a breakdown and grieve the loss of our longtime pet. Rodney was still shaken and I was a mess, but we attempted to put on a good face and prepare for our guests. The table was set, the food was nearly ready and everything was on track — until the guests started arriving. Considering the unfortunate timing of the accident, we had not told the kids about the cat before leaving the house, but they obviously suspected something was awry.

Just as guests began arriving, I began to crack like a hard-boiled egg that has been boiling in the pot a little too long. I was still in shock and unable to pretend that I was ready to say grace and carve the turkey. So, what do you do when you and your husband are hosting nearly 20 people for Thanksgiving dinner and you are now half-hysterical with grief?

There is no playbook for how to host a family dinner after you accidentally killed the cat.

So, we did what Southerners do best in times of grief – we pulled it together, put on our best smiles and served the turkey, dressing and all the trimmings while wiping away tears as they surfaced throughout the day.

Sometimes grief and grace meet when you least expect it. In those moments, it’s God’s grace and the people you love that help sustain you. If you find yourself still engulfed in sadness, however, just skip the meal and go straight to the dessert table for a sampling of homemade pies. Trust me. If you accidentally killed the cat but still managed to show up and host Thanksgiving for your crew, no one will say a word.