Nalu

On August 25, I lost my beloved Nalu, just one month shy of his seventh birthday.

Seven years doesn't feel like nearly enough.

There are some souls who enter our lives quietly and somehow become woven into the rhythm of everything. Nalu was one of those souls.

He wasn't simply my cat. He was my companion, my little shadow, my comforter, my teacher, and, in his own special way, a healer.

Those who came into my space for Reiki may remember Nalu nearby. Sometimes he would observe from a distance. Sometimes he would settle into the energy. And sometimes he seemed to intuitively know exactly where he needed to be.

I used to wonder if Nalu understood Reiki.

Now, I believe perhaps he understood energy—and healing—far better than I ever could.

His Name Was Nalu

In Hawaiian, nalu means wave. It can also mean to meditate, contemplate, or ponder.

I have always loved his name, but now its meaning feels even more profound.

A wave arrives, touches the shore, and eventually returns to the ocean. We cannot hold onto it, no matter how beautiful it is. Yet the shore is forever changed by its presence.

And to nalu is to become still. To reflect. To listen deeply.

Perhaps that was part of his purpose in my life all along.

Nalu taught me when to move with the waves of life and when to become still enough to listen.

And now, in his absence, I find myself contemplating everything this beautiful little soul came here to teach me.

He Taught Me About Unconditional Love

One of Nalu's greatest lessons was simply how to love.

Not transactional love. Not I will love you if you do this for me love.

Just love.

Patient love. Kind love. Forgiving love. Love without jealousy or scorekeeping.

Even at 3:30 in the morning when a little paw, meow, or persistent presence told me that apparently it was the perfect time for affection.

Those moments taught me something.

Love asks us to show up.

Sometimes when it is inconvenient. Sometimes when we're tired. Sometimes without knowing whether anything will be given back to us in return.

Nalu taught me to give affection because affection itself is a gift.

He Taught Me That We Are Stewards

Caring for Nalu also taught me what it means to be responsible for another living being who depends upon us for survival.

Food. Water. Safety. Shelter. Medical care. Comfort. Protection.

But beyond those necessities, there was trust.

He trusted me with his life.

What a sacred responsibility that is.

We humans share this Earth with countless creatures, and Nalu reminded me that we are not simply here to take from Mother Gaia. We are stewards. We are here to care for, protect, nurture, and honor the lives entrusted to us.

His life mattered.

And caring for him taught me to revere life itself.

He Showed Me the Creativity of God

Sometimes I would simply look at Nalu and marvel.

Those magical eyes.

The beautiful spotted patterns of his fur.

His expressions.

His funny little sounds and the seemingly endless vocabulary of meows, chirps, purrs, and vocalizations that somehow I learned to understand.

How extraordinary that creation could imagine something like him.

Through Nalu, I saw the creativity of the Universe—the artistry of God.

Every marking, every sound, every quirk of his personality reminded me that creation isn't ordinary at all.

It is wildly imaginative.

And so was Nalu.

He Stayed With Me in the Darkness

Nalu entered one of the most transformational chapters of my life.

Beginning in 2020, as I moved through my own healing and recovery journey—from depression and PTSD, from using alcohol as a way to escape, and through the ending of a long karmic relationship—Nalu remained beside me.

He didn't need to understand my story.

He didn't need me to explain what hurt.

He simply stayed.

When I was sad, he was there.

When I was sick, he was there.

When life felt overwhelming, he was there.

Sometimes he would lie between my legs as I slept. Sometimes he would sit on my lap while I meditated. He greeted me at the door when I came home. He even stood guard while I showered.

His presence quietly said:

You are not alone.

Nalu showed me what compassion looks like when it doesn't need words.

And perhaps that was some of his most powerful healing work.

My Little Reiki Healer

Animals seem to understand something about energy that we humans sometimes make far too complicated.

Nalu never needed a certification or an explanation of Reiki to know when someone needed comfort.

Healing, to him, was presence.

A warm body beside you.

A purr vibrating through the silence.

A pair of magical eyes watching over you.

A little creature choosing to stay near when your heart was hurting.

He reminded me that healing doesn't always mean fixing.

Sometimes healing means simply saying, in whatever language we have:

I'm here.

That was Nalu's Reiki.

He Taught Me About Free Will, Boundaries, and Respect

Cats are wonderfully and fiercely independent.

You cannot force a cat to love you.

You cannot demand affection on your schedule and expect them to happily comply.

Nalu taught me that love requires respect.

He taught me patience and boundaries. He taught me to allow another being to be exactly who they are rather than who I wish they would be.

And perhaps, through learning to love him that way, I learned something about loving myself that way too.

Nalu had his little gimpy leg.

I didn't love him despite it.

I loved him—all of him.

Love does not require perfection.

Love says:

I see who you are, and I love you here.

He Taught Me That Joy Is Sacred

Nalu was also very, very funny.

His zoomies.

Playtime.

His expressions.

His antics.

Even watching him use the potty could somehow become entertainment.

He reminded me that spirituality isn't only found in meditation, ceremony, healing work, or moments of profound insight.

Sometimes spirituality looks like laughing uncontrollably because your cat has suddenly decided to race through the house for absolutely no apparent reason.

Joy matters.

Joy makes burdens more bearable.

Joy helps hurts heal.

Joy transforms the ordinary into something magical.

Nalu brought joy into my home simply by being Nalu.

He Taught Me to Slow Down

Stretch.

Nap.

Rest.

Sit in the sunshine.

Be still.

Cats seem to understand these things instinctively.

Meanwhile, we humans often spend our lives rushing from one responsibility to another, believing our worth somehow depends upon how much we accomplish.

Nalu reminded me to stop.

To breathe.

To rest without guilt.

To sit quietly.

To be present with what is right in front of me.

Perhaps this is where the other meaning of his name feels most beautiful.

Nalu.

To meditate.

To contemplate.

To become still enough to notice your life while you are living it.

He Taught Me the Value of One Life

Nalu's life mattered.

Not because of what he accomplished.

Not because of what he produced.

Not because he had some impressive purpose the world could measure.

His life mattered because life itself is sacred.

His existence changed mine.

Our lives became intertwined in thousands of tiny ways: routines, sounds, habits, moments, affection, laughter, comfort and companionship.

And when one life touches another that deeply, neither life remains the same.

He was only one little cat in this enormous world.

But to me, he was Nalu.

And that made his life immeasurably valuable.

He Taught Me Gratitude

Now I find myself remembering the smallest things.

His purr.

His ankle bites.

The weight of him sitting on my lap.

His greeting when I walked through the door.

His presence beside me.

The things that once seemed like ordinary parts of an ordinary day have suddenly become treasures.

It brings me back to a Bible verse I learned long ago:

"In everything give thanks."

Gratitude doesn't mean I am grateful that he is gone.

I am grateful that he was here.

Grief and gratitude can sit beside one another.

I can wish desperately that I had more time with him and still give thanks for every moment I was given.

Maybe this is one of grief's strangest gifts.

It teaches us that the ordinary was never ordinary.

He Reminded Me That I Was Never Alone

There were seasons when Nalu may have been the only other living being who truly witnessed what I was going through.

He saw the tears.

The healing.

The recovery.

The meditation.

The sickness.

The endings.

The beginnings.

The becoming.

And through all of it, he stayed close.

Between my legs while I slept.

At the door when I came home.

Standing guard while I showered.

On my lap while I meditated.

Beside me when life felt like too much.

He couldn't tell me that everything would be okay.

Instead, he spoke the language he knew.

Presence.

Purrs.

Warmth.

Trust.

Love.

Heart.

And somehow, that was enough.

Returning to the Ocean

Since August 26, I have been learning another side of love.

Grief.

The silence where familiar sounds used to be. The instinct to look toward a favorite spot. The expectation that someone will greet you at the door.

The tiny routines you don't realize have become sacred until suddenly they are gone.

There are moments when his absence feels enormous.

But beneath that sadness is something equally enormous:

Love.

My spiritual practice has taught me that energy transforms. Nature reminds us of this over and over.

The moon waxes and wanes.

Flowers bloom and return to the earth.

The tide comes in and goes out.

And every wave eventually returns to the ocean.

Perhaps love is like that too.

It changes form, but it doesn't disappear.

Nalu came into my life like a beautiful wave.

For almost seven years, he washed love, laughter, companionship, healing, patience, compassion and joy onto the shores of my life.

And then, much sooner than I was ready, my beautiful wave returned to the sea.

But the shore is different because he was here.

I am different because he was here.

Aloha ‘oe, e ku’u Nalu

I wish we had made it to your seventh birthday.

I wish I had more mornings with you—even those 3:30 a.m. wake-up calls.

More ankle bites.

More zoomies.

More purrs.

More lap time.

More little conversations.

More ordinary days.

But if loving you has taught me anything, it is to be grateful for what was, rather than allowing what I have lost to erase the beauty of what I received.

Thank you, Nalu, for choosing me.

Thank you for trusting me to care for you.

Thank you for making me laugh.

Thank you for sitting beside me in some of my darkest moments.

Thank you for teaching me patience, boundaries, compassion, stewardship, forgiveness, gratitude and unconditional love.

Thank you for showing me the beauty and creativity of God's creation.

Thank you for reminding me to rest.

To play.

To be present.

To love without keeping score.

To show up.

To give thanks.

And thank you for reminding me, again and again:

I was never alone.

I thought I was taking care of you.

Now I understand how much you were taking care of me.

I thought I was your Reiki healer.

Perhaps all along, you were one of mine.

So I won't simply say goodbye.

I will say aloha.

And I will nalu—I will sit quietly, contemplate, remember, and listen for you in my heart.

And whenever I stand beside the ocean and watch a wave roll toward the shore, I know I will think of you.

My Nalu.

My healer.

My teacher.

My companion.

My beautiful wave.

Forever part of my heart.

A hui hou “Little Lu” — until we meet again.

Love,

Mama