by Beatriz Gutierrez Hernandez
Essay by Rafaella Castagnola
For International Cat Day, FOTODEMIC reflects on the meaning of loss through the story of one cat, Pino.
On April 3rd of this year, Pino died, two months away from the second anniversary of his arrival. Rafaella, my roommate at that time, found him on the street, dirty and hungry, so she invited him inside. Even though he arrived very unexpectedly, he quickly became the owner of every corner of the apartment, where he blended in so perfectly. He became a symbol for many important moments, and gave us some sense of purpose when life would get difficult. He left unexpectedly, at a time when I was questioning life decisions and searching for certainty. Being in lockdown, I would still see him in every empty corner. I had to constantly face all these reminders of his life, all the empty spaces where he used to sit, sleep, play.
This work is an attempt to keep his memory alive and find meaning in his absence. It’s a search for answers, a way of dealing with the countless voids (of people, of opportunities, of motivation) and the unending uncertainty that these times have brought.
- Beatriz Gutierrez Hernandez
“I am interested not only in the reality that surrounds us, but also in the reality within us. What interests me most is not the event itself, but the event of feelings. Let's say, the soul of events. For me, feelings are reality.”
- Svetlana Alexievich, investigative journalist, essayist and oral historian
The moment Beatriz told me that Pino had died, I felt as if the world I’d always known was falling apart, fading away. The pain I felt seemed disproportionate to what the loss of a pet usually entails. In a moment of worldwide loss, of rising hunger and poverty, of global isolation and deadly fake news, the death of a cat seemed meaningless. Why did I feel such a deep pain, a new type of pain?
Pino found his way into our lives almost two years ago. He was lost on the street, so we adopted him. As Beatriz animations beautifully capture, Pino blended into the apartment and our lives. Unlike most cats, he became emotionally attached to us, always greeted us at the door, loved being around people. The presence of Pino was a reminder of the role of chance in our lives, how coincidences can bring us together and give us hope in times of uncertainty. Pino’s monthly “anniversary” parties were a reason to host gatherings with our friends. He became a symbol of life in NYC, of all the things I love the most about it, things that have now changed.
Pino’s death happened at the beginning of the pandemic, before I understood how death would be soon surrounding us all, closer than ever before. A different kind of death, one that instantly becomes a number, a statistic. A death without a funeral, without a ritual, without closure. Death without farewell.
As most people who have lost their loved ones during the pandemic, I didn’t get to say goodbye to Pino. I didn’t get to hold him in his worst moments, when he was scared, painfully fading away. As I was grieving him I had to face that I needed to say goodbye to many of the things that held my world together. Memories that suddenly became impossible to repeat and were doomed to stay in the past. Plans that were held back indefinitely. A feeling of uncertainty ruling my life. The pain of losing Pino represented what was about to come.
The COVID-19 pandemic will be remembered in History as a time of political chaos, of economic disaster, of medical discoveries. Ultimately, this time will be represented by the final number of death tolls, that dreadful and uncertain number. Yet this time is made by each one of our stories, each one of our losses. It’s a time constructed by collective grief and hope. The sum and connection of our internal worlds is the reflection of our times.
- Rafaella Castagnola