Thank you for your patience during my long silence this spring and summer. I haven’t written an article since April. That’s an unprecedented break in the otherwise steady series of newsletters I’ve published since the fall of 2015.
What happened? My mom died on April 9. It was a shock. She had taken a bad fall two days earlier, then lost consciousness from a massive brain bleed. There was no time for me to travel to Indiana to say goodbye to her in person.
As it happened, my last newsletter had come out just the day before, on April 8. We had learned that our beloved foster cat Chairman Whiskers likely had lymphoma, and I wrote about death and about the gift highly sensitive people (HSPs) have for being with the dying.
The week after Mom died, my partner and I woke at 5 a.m. to hear Chairman crying out. We tore downstairs to find him in the midst of a final, catastrophic seizure. We took him that very day to be euthanized: he was partly paralyzed and it was the only humane choice. We had planned to adopt him. We were heartbroken.
We took in another foster cat, a sweet tabby named Maizey, thinking that continuing to offer this kind of care and service might help with the grief over Chairman and Mom. She unexpectedly had to be euthanized as well when the shelter discovered she had the feline equivalent of AIDS, which explained why her chronic infections had not been healing.
So many losses
In addition to my mom, Chairman, and Maizey, we lost five other beloved elders in the weeks before and after Mom’s death, and a major work project fell through for my partner. My partner and I felt like walking shells of ourselves.
I’ve felt exhausted, foggy-brained, and slow these past four months—classic symptoms of grief. My deep-processing HSP brain is only now coming out of a state of total overload from processing so much grief and change.
During that time, something had to go, and it did. I stopped writing the newsletter. I didn’t exactly decide to stop; I simply lost the capacity. I tried to write but I couldn’t finish anything. I stopped exercising, too. My body felt too heavy. I used what little energy I had to respond to the hundreds of emails and texts my siblings and I were exchanging.
I’m fortunate that I have three siblings. With a supreme effort on everyone’s part—especially my sister, who lives closest and who took care of countless tasks in person— and with a lot of help from dear friends, we managed to plan a beautiful celebration of my mom’s life. We also survived the process of going through all my parents’ things to clear out their home. In the process, we grew closer, not further apart—a major accomplishment.
The fog is lifting
My energy is gradually returning. I’ve made big progress on my executor duties. And in a very happy recent development on the feline front, my partner and I adopted our most recent foster cat. He’s a handsome tabby named Leo, possessing (as you can see) the biggest fangs I’ve ever seen on a cat. Fortunately, he’s also gentle.
He’s also nearly 16. Perhaps we were crazy to adopt a very elderly kitty. But he’s a sweetheart, and we fell in love with him while fostering him in the weeks before Mom’s funeral. He deserves a loving final chapter, and we will give him that. If there is a silver lining to all the loss we’ve experienced this year, it’s that I know I can survive his death when it comes.
That’s what’s been going on my end. I’m starting to have flashes of what I call “article ideation:” ideas that float into my head and cause me to think, “Oh, I could write about that!” I can’t guarantee how regularly you’ll hear from me for now, but you will hear from me.
If there are questions on your mind around being HSP in today’s messy world, it would really help me to hear them. I particularly enjoy writing in response to your questions. Most of all though, I just appreciate you being there, in your humanness. Your time and your human attention are intrinsically valuable, and it is a privilege to write for you. Thanks for reading.
Image: 2025 Emily Agnew
Note: No AI was used in the production of this newsletter. All the words in it were written and edited either by me, or by other humans whose contributions are clearly quoted and credited.
Wishing you comfort and lots of healing energy during this terribly difficult time. You’ve put so much good into the world–especially for HSPs–with your wonderful writing and your willingness to share your knowledge and experiences. May each coming day be easier for you and your family.
Sharon, thank you. It is getting easier, slowly but surely, and it makes all the difference to know that what I’ve written has been helpful and meaningful to you.
Emily, that is a tremendous amount of loss, and it’s so hard especially not to have the time/chance to say goodbye. Or at least not in the conventional, external way that tends to be so much easier and more comforting….
I am so glad (and a bit envious) that it made. you closer to your siblings. That is indeed a rare and precious thing. Wishing you and your loved ones continued healing and integration.
Adelia, thank you for writing. Now that I think of it, my mom had been saying goodbye in more and more direct ways towards the end. The fall was sudden (and sadly quite violent and bloody) but she knew she was near the end. I did tell her I loved her over the phone as she lay unconscious in hospice care. I hope that on some level she could hear or feel me. Regarding my siblings, a tremendous effort was made by everyone to bring about that outcome, for which I will forever be grateful.
What a journey of loss you’ve been on! And how beautifully and generously you share it with us. Sending so much loving energy to you as you continue to heal and regain strength and clarity. As always, I look forward to your insightful, thoughtful and helpful blog posts.
Mary, I’m deeply grateful to you for writing. I posted this article then turned off my phone and immediately left for four days of silence and meditation at a retreat center near here. How wonderful to return and find these loving messages.
I was recently thinking: I haven’t seen a newsletter from Emily in awhile. And feeling curious. Thank you for sharing what’s been going on with you. That’s a lot of loss and disappointment to manage all at once. I’m sending you loving energy as you continue to feel the feels and learn to live with new circumstances. Big giant hugs!
“Feel the feels…” that is the key, Patty. I feel your hugs and send much gratitude for them. That is the other side of having had to find a way to hold so much grief: I’m finding it really is true what they say, that it also makes more room for joy. Thank goodness:)
I just discovered your blog, what a gift you have offered to share. Thank you. I am sending you love and peace as you re-emerge in whatever way feels good. Blessings
Thank you so much Kristin. I really appreciate your kindness.
What a difficult and painful time you’ve been through. I’m sad for your loss, yet thankful that you have family to support you and that you did what you needed to do (step back from some things) to handle it all during this time. Thank you for sharing your wisdom. Please feel free to take all the time you need to grieve.
Dassia, thank you so much for your kind words. The outpouring of support I’ve received from you and other subscribers has made a huge difference to me. My energy is much steadier than it has been in months.
I just found your website and am so grateful for all you offer here. Reading about all you have been going through, I send you love and hope for your continued healing and processing.
Rachel, thank you for your kind care. I’m happy to hear you are excited about the site; if there are any particular topics you’d like me to point you towards, just let me know…there are over 200 articles here:)