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~This is much longer than I had intended it to be so if you take the time to read it all, thank you so much.~ I lost my best friend and partner to alcohol poisoning a few months ago. I'm 33, he was 36. We've been engaged, broken up, friends and back together again during the last 16 years. He was my first love. I like to tell myself that I'm coping okay because there are some days I can go to the shop or see friends or family and it seems like a normal day, but those days only make the next day even more unbearable. Like trying to live without him only makes his absence much more obvious and painful. Any time we argued over how much I was worried about the drinking and that I was terrified I'd wake up to him dead some day, he'd tell me not to be stupid. When I imagined that scenario I was certain it would end with me in a psychiatric ward. Too much had happened in life already and there was no way I'd ever cope with him dying. I don't understand how it's possible that my worst fear came true. I don't understand how I'm still sane. I don't understand how family members can already be asking, "You're still feeling that bad? I thought you'd be a bit better by now." I don't understand how during the two weeks it took for the coroner to release him and for his service to take place, his mum and I were making arrangements together and now she won't speak to me. The last message she sent me was so shockingly dismissive and cruel it made me physically ill for days. She turned up at our house 3 days after his funeral service and told me I had four weeks to move out. She removed his belongings the next evening while I was out, without giving me any warning. She took our cat home the day she found him dead in our home and at the time I knew it was the best thing for them both. Now she is refusing me access to my own cat and I regret being so thoughtful. She isn't "just a cat" either, she's our cat. We got her when we were living in another country together ten years ago. She's all that's left of our life together. When his mum referred to me as his 'special friend' during the service, I brushed it off. She didn't really know if we were together or not, we didn't talk about our relationship status with anyone this time around. It was nobodies business and we were happier without everyone's opinions and reactions. When she made me leave the house as if I was some stranger renting a room, I held my tongue. I had no rights, he owned the house and left no will. When she told me she needed some time before she had anymore visitors, I respected that and I didn't contact her for almost 6 weeks, even though she promised me she wasn't going anywhere, that I would always be welcome, that I could visit our fluffy baby whenever I wanted. When I finally tried contacting her, only asking to see the cat, the response I got from her was shameful. I don't know how she can be so cold and insensitive and it pains me so much when I wonder what her son would think of it all. He wouldn't have wanted it this way. A mother's grief, however unimaginable, is no excuse for this. It's Christmas soon and instead of he and I sitting watching movies and admiring our tree with our kitty snuggled up between us, I'm living in my brother's old room in my parents house struggling to remember what day it is. As if his absence isn't hard enough, everyone else is conveniently aware of how much time is passing. They're keeping a note of the things I'm managing and the things I'm not- especially if the things I'm not managing are putting others out. The evenings I pour a glass of wine are met with raised eyebrows. The amount of days each week I simply don't get out of bed don't outweigh the days I'm up pottering about, but they're still noted. I'm not eating enough or drinking enough water. I need to go outside more. I need to see friends more. I should maybe see friends less and visit family more. I need to "let it go", life is unfair and I can't control how others treat me. I just have to "mourn the cat the same way you're mourning him. Remember, you still have the rest of your life to live. You can't let this break you." My instincts that day were telling me not to leave him, but he was so convincing. He'd been almost two months sober and our friend and I had had this long weekend planned for months. Why did he squeeze me extra tight as I was leaving though? Was it just an 'I love you' squeeze because we hadn't spent time apart in ages or was it something sinister? Did he want to die that night? Was he really drunk and he simply passed out and fell to the floor? Lay unconscious until he stopped breathing? Or could he feel something was wrong and he was too scared or too drunk to call for help? The coroner couldn't give me those answers. We didn't even get a time of death. I will never know why he was found on the kitchen floor, but the bedroom door upstairs was damaged and there was vomit on the duvet cover. How did he not fall coming down the stairs if he was that drunk? Why was his backpack on the counter along with some shopping, as if he'd just come in the door when it happened? If he was really drunk, drunk enough that he passed out or had a seizure, he couldn't have walked to the shop. Why did I leave him that day when I was still concerned? Why didn't I insist his mum break our front door down that night, when I was hundreds of miles away and knew something was wrong?? Why did I listen to her going on about not wanting to disturb the neighbours and that he was "probably just passed out asleep"? I lay awake all night in that hotel bed, wide awake, staring at our messages, praying I'd see him come online just once. I didn't even want a reply anymore. If I could just see him online, I could relax. I remember sitting trying to eat an egg for breakfast the next morning, knowing that no matter what, we were cutting our trip short and going home straight away. His mum called me as her husband was trying to climb a ladder and squeeze through our bedroom window. I remember hearing him open our front door and say, "call an ambulance." She hung up and I rushed back to our room. I remember our friend hugging me tightly on the bed as I rocked back and forward waiting for his mum to call me back. Our friend was promising me he'd be okay, that he was just being a selfish idiot again. Alcohol was the devil. He'd drank too much and passed out and maybe even needed his stomach pumped, but he'd be okay. I think she was trying to convince herself, because I knew she was wrong. His mum called me back, I cried out before she'd even told me he was gone and threw up. Our friend and I had met through my partner many years prior. They were old school friends. She must have been in so much shock and pain too, but she managed to somehow get us home that day. We had been best girlfriends from the day he had introduced us, two peas in a pod. During the reception, after the funeral service, there was a book people could write messages in. In our friends message, she thanked him for all the wonderful, hilarious memories and for giving her me. I couldn't even think of anything to write. I remember our drive home, but I couldn't go home because he was still on our kitchen floor with his mum holding him, waiting on the ambulance to take him to the morgue. I went to my parents house but I couldn't settle and I made them take me home that night. I remember walking towards our dark house with my key in hand, praying this was all a nightmare or some cruel joke and that he'd be in bed with the cat, waiting for me to get home and yell at him for the panic he'd caused. There was his backpack on the kitchen counter, along with an open packet of jam donuts and some pringles. When I looked in the bin I could see how much he'd drank. The corner cabinet door was damaged and the fruit bowl was on its side, like he'd maybe tried to grab hold of something. Everything was just as he'd left it. The tablet was plugged in and still running a game upstairs. An empty chocolate wrapper was lying on the table by the sofa in the lounge. His beanie hat was exactly where he always threw it after he got home. His vape was sitting charging. He'd bought a pot noodle and some tins of pepsi max. The new ginger flavour. They've stopped making it now. I lay on the floor, in the place I could see he had been and cried my heart out as my parents watched in dismay. Mum stayed over with me that night and I didn't clean up until the next day. His mum didn't seem happy that I'd cleaned up but that was my home, not hers. I woke up in that house everyday until the day of his service, expecting him to walk through the door at some stage with yet another pair of new trainers and a McDonald's cheeseburger. To be honest, I waited everyday after the service too. Even as I was packing up my boxes in the early hours of the morning, the day the removal crew were arriving, I was mad he wasn't there to help. Why did I have to do all this by myself? Why did I have to do it at all?? He'd asked me to move in with him the previous year when he bought the house and now he just leaves me to deal with this alone? 114 days later and I still can't process any of it. It helps to write it all down though. I haven't been crying a lot again, I go through phases, but this is cathartic. Willow, my mum's dog, was sick this past weekend. We had to take her to the emergency vet. I spent two nights awake with her, feeding her water from a syringe and keeping her temperature down with a cool cloth over her ears and paws. He was her favourite human. I think of that every time she's trying to give me slobbery kisses. I miss him so much my chest hurts. There are so many things already that I wish I could tell him. He'd probably have already seen it or read about it, but it kills me I can't share these things with him anymore. I've never felt so empty and alone. I don't feel like I have a home anymore, that I belong anywhere and I've never felt this way before. I have no idea how to face the rest of my life after this. If one more person says "one day at a time", I'll scream. I wanted to post something somewhere online, hoping for some relief and because there is a severe lack of mental health support in my local area atm due to covid restrictions and a crippled healthcare system. I also wanted to find out if anyone else has had any experience with partner's families turning cold towards you or treating you badly out of nowhere? That's what makes me feel sick most days at the moment and I've been trying my best to move forward and forgive his mum. I can't imagine her pain and I've never claimed to. Still, she has no right to dismiss my grief, no right to treat me like I no longer exist and can't see our cat. I know there's absolutely nothing I can do about it that won't cause more anger and pain and upset though. I keep coming back around to the idea that I must deserve all that's happened. For all the times I lost my patience with him and moaned at him over stupid things. Lecturing him for handling work and his stress the 'wrong way' and for not setting boundaries with his overbearing mother. I didn't take care of him well enough. I was always asking him for more than he was capable of giving. I didn't accept him as he was, I was too demanding. I never did the dishes. I stopped spending the evenings with him when he was drinking. I couldn't stand watching him drink so fast and get drunk so quickly. I couldn't stand the smell anymore, or how badly it made him snore. No matter how much I begged, he would just say, "I'll take a break tomorrow night." I would give ANYTHING to have that snore back now. I would sit with him every night, even have a few drinks with him. If he hadn't been sober for two months and hadn't been to the GP and started medication for his anxiety, it might not have killed him.

I lived with my former best friend and her dog, Christmas, for 7 years. Four of those years were in my home until it flooded. We moved in with her dad who started showing signs of dementia. I was deeply depressed so I had the job of sitting with her dad 70-80 hours a week for 3 years. When he died, I was forced to move out. I missed Christmas so much and felt guilty for disappearing on her like that. I wasn’t even able to visit much at all cause of the jealous ex that my friend got back together with. About 3 months ago, My former best friend gave me Roux, who was a cat I found and we both claimed ownership of, but I let her keep Roux since she had just lost her dad. Her ex was allergic to cats so I was happy to get Roux back. I am living with my son and he has the brother of Roux, so it’s nice to all be together. I was hurting so bad from missing Christmas, and wondered if she felt abandoned by me:( . The guilt was awful. I got a call from my former best friend this morning that Christmas died. She was 9 years old and healthy. She did have a little stomach problem and the vet gave her a couple of shots and medication yesterday. She died? What happened? I helped my friend bring her to be cremated this morning. My heart is broken. So much time lost with her. I wonder if she knew I never wanted to leave her?

I don't know if anyone will still read this. It is quite long.. but I can only wish someone would try to help me. I'm grief stricken with guilt over a stray outdoor cat. He was recently euthanized in a shelter a week ago. I've been caring for him the last year and a half. He was left by his feral mom when he was little in our property. Since we already had 2 cats indoor, my hubby didn't want anymore addition so I just fed him from our deck. There he stays and after eating would just lie down on the chair next to our sliding door. At night he comes back to sleep on the same chair. Our cats know him and he's been friendly towards them. They even sleep next to each other by the glass door. Eventually, I am able to pet him and he kneads and purrs a lot too. I named him Tabby. He sometimes wanted to come in but because he hasn't been fixed and vaccinated, I couldn't let him in yet. 
 I did try to capture him in the hopes that someone else can adopt him but he's smart and when he sense it, he would just run away. I did call the animal shelter if they can put him up for adoption but told me they were full. I still planned to catch him whatever it takes because it had been very cold outside. A couple of months ago, he didn't come at all. I blame it on another male territorial feral who's been chasing him away. I still wait for him every night in case he did come back. I somehow felt he would starve because he doesn't seem to know how to catch anything and he's used to being fed by me.
 I was wishing that maybe someone had adopted him. A week ago, I saw him again, walking slowly and being cautious towards our door. As soon as he saw me, he came straight away, and was wagging his tail! But I was shocked to see him limping and what seems to be a broken hind leg. He had a wound and seemed swollen. I immediately petted him, he purred again and then I gave him food. He ate a lot and seemed to be very hungry. Again, I wanted to catch him and get some help. I observed him for a couple of days and made some call to the animal shelter. They have been assisting me with the TNR of a cat colony i'm taking care of. Maybe they can also help me with him. He was able to walk still but not using one of his hind leg anymore. He was still able to jump up our deck to eat. Then come down again to go relieve himself, then inside the cat box I made for them for winter and harsh weather. He would just stay in there until the next feeding time or when he needed to go. The animal shelter agreed to take him in since he's injured but informed me that if he was deemed un-adoptable, that there is a greater chance he would be put to sleep. I thought if they get to know him and give him a chance, he should be ok since I can pet him and he still purrs despite his injury. On the third day, I was able to coax him in the cat trap. It didn’t have to be triggered, I just slowly moved his cat food further inside and he went in on his own while nibbling. He wasn’t agitated but was meowing wondering why he’s in there after I closed the latch. I placed a cloth over it so he’d be calm. This is where I noticed more of his injury, and it looked like a puncture wound. The person from the shelter came and took him away. Since there is a COVID-19 restriction, I am not able to see him after that. He did say that their vet will be able to look at him in a couple of days. I was worried for him though because his injury may get worse from the transportation to the shelter. I was told that he was very shaken upon arriving and he didn’t let anyone touch him. The next day though he was calm and was inside his box. The following day that he went to the vet, I got a voicemail saying that he has a dislocated hip, broken leg (not even sure if this was just from observation or x-ray as the rep who took him said they may not do an x-ray on him but just observe) and that he would be needing massive dose of antibiotics. Also a leg amputation which mean he will not be allowed to go back outside. He will need to be quarantined as he had a bite of unknown origin. They're guessing a bigger animal that bit his leg and dragged him around. They asked if I wanted him back but that it is going to be a rather expensive vet bills. And that he will have to be indoors all the time. Their vet recommended he’d be humanely euthanized because they deemed him un-adoptable as they can’t handle him. I’m sure he was so scared of this unfamiliar territory and new people. I wished they have given him a bit more time to get accustomed to them. He was already sedated when they called and wanted to know what our decision were soon. If we agree to have him euthanized instead, they will not wake him up anymore and go on with it straight up. I don't know if they even did any x-rays of him. As far as I was told, they would just do some observation. I was desperate and confused, I don’t really know what to do.. so I had my husband speak to them instead. I couldn’t bear the thought of him being put down so I had him call. He asked if he was to go on surgery and live, will he still have a good quality life? They said since he’s an outdoor cat, he may not like to be indoors and also because of his condition, the infection seemed to spread to some other parts of his body. And from how bad it sounded, and a rushed decision, we’ve reluctantly agreed to euthanasia. They said we did the right thing, but i'm still second guessing. I cried for the next few days. And felt so guilty and depressed. He came back knowing I’m his shelter, that he’s safe with me. Knowing I will be there for him and take care of him. That I’m his refuge. He jumped up the deck even though it was hard for him. He can take it. He was a survivor and a will to live. He was always happy to see me… I should’ve been the one who gave him the chance.. I should’ve given him a few more days for him to get accustomed to the new environment. He would’ve loved to be indoors, as he always came inside a few inches from the door. I would know.. He was still ok, it would’ve been better for him. I felt that when he was at the vet shelter, he wanted to escape because it was an unknown territory, another traumatic event for him. That's why he wasn’t calm with other people. I wonder if he struggled too much and so they deemed him un-adoptable. It’s hard for me because my husband was not 100% on board initially. He thinks I’m humanizing the cat too much. And he doesn’t feel I should take care of him because we already have two cats. I didn’t fight for him and I regret it so much. My husband did regret it later on but was too late. I wish Tabby could forgive me. I know I can’t turn back time anymore.. This feeling really sucks. I’m in so much grief. I wish I had more resources and took the time to get more informed of his situation. I browsed online and found that there were similar incidents as him, if not worse, and they turned out ok after being taken care of. And there would be other shelters that would take in injured cats. I’m regretting that I should have fought for extra testing to make sure I was doing the right thing. I feel so rushed and so confused. I really didn’t want him euthanized, I just wanted to get help for him. We should’ve just taken him back. He trusted me. We had a bond..

On Sunday my sweet Clarice, 16 year old mini long-haired dachshund was killed by a car. She was blind and while we don't have a fence, she was old and didn't walk far to do her business... unless you stopped paying attention. Then she would wander off because she was a brave little soul and she trusted us to watch out for her. My husband took her out and got distracted. She walked into the road and was hit by a car; I believe she died instantly, though we rushed her to the emergency vet. My heart has never been so broken, not just because I lost her when she was perfectly healthy (we had just had a check up) and had many more years with us, but mostly because I don't know how to trust my partner ever again. This is my worst nightmare come to life. I want to stop remembering her limp body as we rushed her to the vet. I want to go back in time and stop this from happening. The person I most love and trust in the world hurt me. She should still be here. If anyone has anything they can say to help, I would be grateful. I don't want to blame him, I want to call it a horrible accident, but I don't know how. I plan to put a memorial in the yard. I also immediately called two fence installers to get estimates. None of it stops the pain. Thank you for this work you do, Kim

A rose is a rose is a rose. Accidents are accidents are accidents. I understand this all too well, but it doesn't make things any better. As pet owners, we all know that the absolute worst thing that could ever happen is accidentally killing our life companions. The blood on our hands, so to speak, doesn't wipe off easily if at all. Our minds go on a loop of could have, would have and should haves. The days that follow feel so cold with their absence, and knowing their abrupt demise was on your watch makes the atmosphere even colder. They did not deserve such an awful end, we tell ourselves. They really don't. No one does. But, it happens. This is my story. My daughter's nanny found an abandoned kitten a street or two away and brought it back to our doorstep. I jolted out of my nap when my husband told me that there was a kitten outside. She looked around two months old. We took her in and loved her as our own. Morrigan filled a certain space in our lives that made us feel complete. My husband, the dog person, even fell in love with her. Most of all, finally having a cat again made me so happy. That was until one unfortunate Monday morning, almost two months later. I woke up to find Morrigan playfully biting my sleeping husband who was annoyed by the habit, and then moving on to my sleeping toddler's foot. She was in that painful biting phase and we were trying to discipline her. My lack of a morning person made me pick up the kitten and put her in a box. I thought I would leave her there for a very brief moment as I went to drink a glass of cold water and then go back to her immediately. But, when I did, I spaced out and forgot about my poor little kitty. It wasn't until 30-45 minutes later when I went to fill her food bowl did I realize that I left her in the box. I panicked and ran to get her out of the unventilated box only to find out I was too late. Her body was still warm but she hung lifelessly on my hands. I tried administering CPR but my efforts were futile as her brain would have already collapsed by the lack of oxygen. The nanny found me by the bathroom crying and screaming. My husband, who was awakened by my relentless bawling, came to comfort me and was also struck with grief. I held her to my chest the whole time. I'm one of those pet owners who treat their pets as if they were their children. Morrigan was more than a family pet. She was my baby. And, I killed my baby. When I finally gathered myself, I put together her belongings in a pretty shoebox where I also laid her to rest, all swaddled and snug in one of my baby's gauze cloths. We held a small funeral as we burried her by the tree in our secret garden, where I used to take her so she can graze on the vegetation. I moved all of her photos and videos from our phones to a zip folder in my computer. I rearranged the space where her feeding station used to be. I wasn't getting rid of her, but I knew what I had to do to make moving on easier. On our first night without Morrigan, I had a dream about her. It was one of those ethereal-esque dreams you have when someone close to you dies. I woke up with tears of joy. That sense of relief didn't last long. Guilt, as we all know it, is a very powerful affliction. I was back in that cold place again. The tragic scenario played over and over in my head. I tried to go on with my day as usual, but I was dying inside. I didn't want to talk about it, thinking that dwelling upon it might make moving on harder. I feared that in a heated discussion of our grief, I would be blamed for her death, which I knew I deserved but couldn't bear to hear. So, I kept it all inside. But, silence reaches a point where it becomes deafening. I was furious. I have been through a lot (a rich backstory that I won't discuss), but this by far is the worst thing that has ever happened to me... because this time, I brought it on to myself. Everything was just right. I had a beautiful family and she completed the picture. Above everything else, she filled a hole in my heart that I didn't even know was there (or refused to acknowledge). There was something about having a cat that made me whole. After another restless night of tossing and turning, I got up and googled: "I accidentally killed my cat and I feel devastated and I don't know what to do." That's how I got here. Somehow, being able to write it down helped, but I know dark clouds may hover again some time soon. So, I'm taking it one day at a time. To my daughter: I'm sorry that your best-kitty-friend, "Monggan" is not around to play with you anymore. To my husband: I'm sorry. I know how much you loved her and I know you are just as heartbroken. Thank you for being my rock. And, to my sweet, little Morrigan: I could never apologize enough. You were gone too soon, and I'm so sorry it had to happen that way. I will miss having you perch on my shoulder as I do things. I will miss the funny way you look when you're pooping. I will miss how you follow us to the bathroom. I will miss separating the bigger pieces of your dry food from the small fish-shaped pieces and soaking them in water/milk so you can eat them easily. I will miss refilling your water bowl with clean tap water every couple of hours. I will miss fish day. I will miss watching you and my little girl, playing. I will miss giving you nice, warm baths and swaddling you after because you start shivering. I will miss how my husband tells you you look ugly and funny when you're wet from your bath. I will miss brushing your fur with a soft toothbrush. I will miss that one claw nail that was injured (pre-adoption) which took longer to grow than the rest. I will miss how you come running straight towards me when I call you. I will miss your baby kitty smell. I will miss your smooth, round belly. I will miss how you playfully bite my nose/chin and lick it immediately after. I will miss how you cuddle up with my hubby when he's sleeping. I will miss how you beg for food when we're eating, and how we pick you up and put you down when you get too close to the food. I will miss how my hubby falls for your cutie-patootie tactics and give you a sliver of chicken anyway. I will miss waking up and finding you somehow snuggled in between me and my hubby's embrace. I will miss everything about you. Mommy loves you so much. You were family and more. You made us very happy and we miss you dearly. You will always be in our hearts. ?

I have been reading through this thread & other parts of the internet trying to put my mind at ease with what i can do. My situation at the moment is the following. I had been dating someone for about a year & a half. He always struggled to express emotions as most Men do which i understand. We had a great "Honeymoon Phase" we had fun all the time. Barely fought about anything. I had met him once i had come back to my hometown after being overseas for about 4 years. He introduced me to new people & all his friends whom all accepted me. I was so happy being in a relationship where everything was okay & minimal effort, we made sure to always have fun & be happy. Up until about February this year things started spiraling. His Father was ill & i knew it took a toll on his emotions except he was never one to talk, all his friends always said it's how he has always been & he never even spoke to them about how he was feeling. If there was a fight AT ALL he would always say "it's okay, just know this is how i am and i like to let things go instead of sharing my emotions" he said he loved me because i don't push him to do this. Hi Father passed away in February. Then things started getting even worse, i even had my own problems to deal with but i felt i can deal with them on my own as i did not want to add onto the hectic pressure he was feeling. It would not have been fair as i don't know what it is like to lose a parent. i started getting weird in the sense he stopped giving me the attention he always used to, even before his father died. He used to send me cute messages, post photos, compliment me all of that. Before his dad died when i questioned him about these things he'd simply say " I am not dating the world, i am dating you & you should understand that just because i don't talk all mushy all the time or post photos of us or anything doesn't mean i love you less" I left it there thinking everyone has a different love language. And he already said he doesn't love me any less. I knew that when tough situations arises he was the type to isolate himself. I mad a big mistake the day of his father's memorial. We had a mutual friend there. He said i suppose just out of being nice to her he told her she looked cute that day. I immediately felt insecure cause he barely told me for some time that i am cute or pretty. Hell he used to say those things all the time. I had then told him it hurt my feelings, however i regret even getting upset over something so valid yet trivial. ON THE DAY OF HIS FATHERS MEMORIAL. How could i be so stupid. Things just we weird for some time after that even though i did apologize i don't think it sufficed. Then March came, the 12th was his Birthday (It was a Thursday). That day we weren't chatting a lot on Whats app. I however knew i was gonna see him that night as we got together as a group of friends to celebrate his birthday. Because he was being so sour with me on that day I was actually quite rude. He could see i was upset and i clearly expressed it. He asked me what was wrong & my response was " What's wrong with you?" He answered by saying " If i have to explain to you that i am going through a difficult time then i don't want to" We still got to the place we met his friends & I didn't look at him or speak to him at all. I was upset in front of everyone ON HIS BIRTHDAY which was so so so wrong. We had quite a big fight but went out elsewhere afterwards & it seemed a bit better cause we had a short chat in the car. The next day being a Friday he didn't speak to me AT ALL. I thought we resolved what happened but obviously not. I kept on asking if we can just talk & he just kept on saying he has nothing to say. Later that day i asked him if he still loved me he said "yes". I went to bed next to him with his back turned to me wondering if i should even hold him or not & what should i do because i have really messed this up. The next morning being Saturday we were meeting up with friends to celebrate his birthday further. He had gotten up & i was crying a lot because i felt so guilty about what i did. He saw me crying and asked me "Why are you crying" I told him because i messed up so bad & I don't know how to fix it. He looked at me & said "I have already moved on from what happened & so should you" I thought well okay. Seems like we can just forget that, i did't want to because i am a fixer, i like to fix things knowing it's been spoken about & resolved. But because from the very beginning he always told me he doesn't like being pushed i left it, I went to have a shower & just before I did i said please forgive me and hold me. He just kept saying "I don't want you to keep apologizing, i just want you to also have a good day" I agreed with that & said I also want to have a good day. We went & it was quite a good day. That night we got to bed & he was still so so distant, I sat up and tried to speak & apologize again. I said to him i understand he is going through a tough time but all i ever ask for is just some love & attention like in the beginning. I said if you could just tell me now & again that i actually mean something to you the i would not have reason to act this way. Sunday came we had lunch with his family. Monday came i went home as i had work & so did he (we only saw each other on weekends). I had typed out a message on my phone's notepad i wanted to send to him that night. It was just me saying how happy i am we are able to still stand strong through difficult times & i will work o how i was & how poorly i acted over the past few days. I told him i am sorry & i am glad we can get through it. I wanted to send it to him when he got home after work.Monday nigh he still managed to say things are looking up & it will be okay, he said he loved me that said good night. I ended up not sending the message i typed out on the notepad as he said it's all okay? I though well let me not carry on talking about what happened. He said it's fine so i believe him. Tuesday came we chatted a bit the morning, by the time i got home he messaged me to come outside & broke up with me saying that the recent fight have changed his feelings towards me & that's just how he feels. I didn't beg or plead, I felt emotionless in that moment. The only thing i could say was people fight & things happen when there is pressure & all he could say is he's seen this pattern before & he can't change how i feel i need to accept it etc. I got out of his car & the only thing i could say was "have a good night" The next morning I sent him a message asking him if we could please talk about this more thoroughly. I sent him the message I typed out on the Notepad & said I wanted to send him this but I did't because he said things are fine. He proceeded to say it's how he feels & that's it. I said then I am just asking for chance, he said he's given it to me already. Which i never understood because the fighting was only recent so this would be the first chance I am asking for? I told him to please think about it. He read the message & didn't reply. I left it for another day but my mind was spiraling. I sent a very long message the next day that was honestly so sincere trying to explain to him tat couples fight in tense times & that no real relationship is perfect & no perfect relationship is real. He proceeded to once again say it's how he feels, i need to accept it. He said after the recent events his feelings have changed & he loves me but isn't in love with me anymore. That broke me, yet i kept on trying & trying. He said we didn't talk things through when something happened but HE was always the one that never wanted to talk. Look at just the other day when he said "I have moved on from what happened & so should you". How do you push to talk about feelings if he hates being pushed & he just said that? I understand the messaging didn't help but i just couldn't understand. I told him I am trying my best. His response was "I hope i didn't make a mistake & i hope i don't fu%*ing regret it" He said " I know you are trying but I don't know what to say & i can't give you what you want" I just said to him I will give him space & i said i hope this dark cloud over him disappears & hopefully soon we can just talk about this again. I am trying to understand what to do & what i can do to win him back in the sense is it just him going through a really tough time? Did he really mean all of that?Do you think he said those things because i kept on messaging him? How could he give up if the fights were only so recent? Is the pressure too much because he is grieving? He still hasn't told any of our mutual friends because if he did the girls especially would have messaged me by now, but tomorrow (Saturday ) they are all having a BBQ, which I was invited to & if I don't pitch up & they ask why what will he say? If he tells them does it make it even more real?I am so confused because it was just two fights that happened on unfortunate days I i can't take the past back. I just want to show him I can fix it as I have learnt from it if he can just give me a chance. I did't once throw his faults in his face... I just need some advise if anyone out there can help me find my way back to him. I am sure about it. I am breaking down so much I don't know what to do. I don't want to message our mutual friends begging for help because it would push hi away even more if he found out. Please... help me.

Hi, I’m new here, so I’m sorry if I’m doing this wrong. I lost my mum in January 2017 and feel a lot of guilt about it. My mum had mental health issues, and whilst 95% of the time she was functional and fine, sometimes she really struggled. She had psychosis and sometimes she would hear voices in her head and when she got like that she would drink and go to bed. One night she was struggling and had been drinking and went to bed like she normally would. I was the only one in the house and I was watching something on TV. Usually I would hear my mum get up in the night a lot to go to the bathroom, walk on the landing, go downstairs etc, but this night I hadn’t heard anything. I remember getting a little worried and wondering if I should go check, and this wasn’t a new feeling because in the past I would feel like this when she had been on the same state and I’d go check on her just to see if she was still breathing in bed and she obviously was always fine. This night I didn’t go check, I thought “she’s probably fine” because she was always fine! And I thought it was just me overthinking and being worried like I normally was, so I didn’t go check. I still felt worried but I didn’t go check and just tried to think of other things and watched TV. Later my dad came home, went to check on my mum, and we found she had died. Turned out it was mix of the alcohol and the medication she was on (that we weren’t told could be fatal when mixed together, but that’s a whole other sad story) I feel responsible in a way for my mum’s death. I feel like if I had checked when I had that thought she could have been struggling and I could have got her help or something, but i was selfish or lazy and didn’t go check on her. I know logically that if I had really thought something was wrong I would’ve gone and checked, but me having that little niggling doubt should’ve been enough and I should h e checked! I’m so angry with myself, I feel like I was just being lazy or selfish. What if she would still be alive if I had checked? I’ve told my family this and they don’t blame me and say there’s just no knowing when she died and even if I had checled she could’ve been dead already, but I still feel guilty for not checking. Even if I had discovered she was already dead, I still made the choice not to check for my own reasons, whatever they were, even though I was worried something might have been wrong. I don’t know what to do.

We lost our Little Bear on Monday. She was a dear little girl, only 10 years old and she came down with an illness we were never able to definitively identify after two vets and many visits. Repeated blood tests were normal. X-rays revealed nothing. The best they could tell us was "cognitive canine disorder" similar to Alzheimers in adults. She didn't appear to be in any pain, but this once joy-filled little dog that was so full of love and zest for life no longer wagged her tail at all, or enjoyed anything she used to...she just slept and ate. It broke our hearts to see her like this. She had the heart of a puppy and had always met us with wiggles and wags--like she hadn't seen us in a week, even when we'd only been gone five minutes. She often laid next to us, but was like a little toddler...never wanting to be held, always wanting to play. For the last couple of months she barely lifted her head when we came home. She slept on our chests for hours at a time, snuggling under our chin and pressing her check to our lips for kisses. Our son suffers from a medical condition and she has been the light in his life through the years of struggles he's faced. He was devastated watching her decline and we took her to multiple vets looking for an answer. She started to become confused, staring at the carpet and walls, seemed to forget how to drink so we mixed water in with food we cooked and prepared at home. The last vet we took her to said she could live for a long time like this and he was sorry he couldn't do anything more. He was grateful she was eating and said that was the main concern. He said this was the new normal for her and we would never have the dog back that we once had. It was hard to hear that but it helped us move forward and let go of pouring hundreds and hundreds of dollars we didn't have into tests that didn't reveal anything. He gave us medicine to try for the cognitive disorder but we didn't see a difference, she was still on it when we lost her. It was hard to think of her living like this for years, but we also couldn't bear to put her to sleep since she didn't appear to be in pain. I did research on canine cognitive disorder and read one source that said dogs with CCD lived longer than dogs without it, one possible reason being that they visited the vet more often. We missed our joy-filled Little Bear but we realized this was going to be our new normal and we were going to love her just as much and make her as comfortable as possible. We had deaths in our extended family over the past two years that were untimely and devastating, and in the wake of those deaths, we accepted an invite to go on vacation with our extended family. For months we planned a once in a lifetime vacation. It gave those grieving something to focus on and look forward to. In the meantime, Little Bear started showing symptoms, and was diagnosed with CCD. We hated the thought of leaving her to go on vacation. She had always come with us but it would be impossible for her to make this trip. Since she wasn't in pain we thought she would be okay if we left her in the care of a trusted family member who lives a few hours away and who is nurturing and loving. We pictured them snuggled for hours together. She had always loved going to their home since she was a puppy and knew them by name. We knew this was the best place she could be while we were gone. We were gone two weeks. We missed her everyday and couldn't wait to get home to pick her up. Our son said over and over again how much he couldn't wait to see her. We felt the same way. There were several sick people that we were exposed to on our way home from vacation and our son and I picked something up...by the evening of our return, we were both sick. I didn't want to expose the couple who watched Little Bear to whatever we had, so my husband made the trip to pick her up alone. That night, I Face-timed him and saw Little Bear sleeping on his chest. I couldn't wait to hold her again and tell her how much I love her. But that night, the unthinkable happened. The couple had been letting Little Bear out on their fenced in and gated deck to go to the bathroom. They felt it was less confusing for her than going in the grass and said they just rinsed the deck off after she went to the bathroom. So that night, my husband let her out on the deck. The deck wraps around two sides of their house. There are several bird feeders on the deck and in the past, we've seen raccoons at the feeders at night. There haven't been raccoons there in a couple of years, but my husband didn't know this. As our Little Bear paced for a place to go to the bathroom on the deck, my husband decided to make sure there weren't any raccoons lurking around the corner of the deck that might surprise her. He walked around the side of the deck to make sure the feeder was clear and it was. When he turned back around, Little Bear was gone. He said he couldn't have looked away for more than 7 seconds. It was raining hard. He quickly looked around the deck and she was no where to be found. He thought she may have walked through the slats of the deck so he jumped the gate and ran to the area below the deck. They have a walkout basement and it would've been a 10 foot fall for her. He looked all around and couldn't find her. He yelled for help and the couple watching her brought flashlights and called the sheriff. Within 1-2 minutes of her disappearing, three people with flashlights were looking for her. Under bushes, through the lawn, behind flowerpots and under cars. They live in a rural area with woods and ravine. The sheriff and my husband searched the hill and ravine. The drove the neighborhood and searched the properties of the surrounding homes. Neighbors joined the search. It was pitch dark and after two hours of looking in the rain, they called off the search. My husband and a couple people looked again in the morning. They never found her. My husband called me with the news the morning after she disappeared. When I assured him it wasn't his fault, he broke down crying like I've only heard him cry once before in over two decades of marriage. I could imagine the panic he had gone through and my heart broke for him. I felt in my heart she had died and that there was nothing more he could do to find her. There are numerous coyotes in the area and owls. I felt in the seven seconds my husband was checking for raccoons, an animal took her. I couldn't imagine her pushing through slats on the fence and falling over the side and no one finding her. They were searching with flashlights within a couple minutes, the only delay being that my husband started looking even before that, without a flashlight, while he called for help. Little Bear had been so weak and tired. When she came up against an obstacle, whether furniture or a wall, she would stop and stare at it, or turn around and start pacing. But now I can't stop thinking. What if she pushed through the slats and fell off the deck? I know they looked for hours and hours for her. Surely they would've found her? But maybe they missed a spot I would've found her in. I can't imagine what happened to her. I can't sleep at night thinking of where she might be or how she died. She was such a loving dog. The most loving dog I have ever known. She deserved so much better than this. I feel like I failed her. When we left her to go on vacation we knew she had CCD, but we thought she would live for years. While we were gone, the couple watching her said she declined even further but they didn't want us to know because we were out of the country and couldn't have gotten back any sooner. They said she seemed to lose her hearing completely and her eyesight was worse. She bumped into things. Would run into their legs and act like she was caught and couldn't get out. She paced constantly and only laid down when she was exhausted--but never let them hold her. The snuggling I had imagined never happened with them. How it breaks my heart to think of her anxious heart. Was she wondering where we went? My husband cried and told me he didn't want to tell me but when he got to the couple's house, Little Bear didn't know who he was. She didn't want him to hold her. I told him I saw her laying on his chest when we Face-timed but he said that was the only time she let him hold her. I keep thinking, what if I hadn't gotten sick and I'd gone with my husband to pick her up? Enough of the events of that night would've changed and she wouldn't have disappeared. Maybe I would've let her out in the grass. Or let her out earlier and an animal wouldn't have gotten her. Or I could've held her and told her l loved her and then when she went out that night she wouldn't have run away. She would've felt warm and safe. Was she afraid when she tried to get off the deck? Was she looking for us? Looking for cover from something that scared her? Looking for the car so she could go home? Was she just disoriented and she walked through the slats? Did she push her way through? But if she pushed her way through, the drop was ten feet. Wouldn't they have found her? Then it had to be an animal. An owl? A coyote? I don't know what happened to her! Seven seconds and she vanished. What if I had gone down to look for her the next day? Maybe if she had fallen off the deck I could've found her. But hours upon hours had been spent looking for her and I believed she was gone. Now I lay awake at night and am tormented during the day thinking what if...what if she is still out there? What if I could have found her but instead she died in the rain? Afraid and alone. If you think I could've done more, please don't tell me. I can't bear it. I didn't tell our kids or anyone else what really happened. Everyone knows how sick she was with CCD. We are telling people she died overnight before my husband could bring her home. No one has questioned that she died overnight or how she died. She was a shell of her former self. We can never tell our kids what really happened. Because of our son's medical condition, the stress of hearing the devastating news of how she disappeared could actually affect his health and we don't want to take the risk. He would wonder, as we do, is she still out there suffering in the woods? Did an animal take her and she died that way? No matter how we look at it, she died a terrible death or is dying one now. She was a tiny thing...less than ten pounds. I can't imagine she is still alive. And yet I wonder. And my heart breaks for her. I just can't stand the thought of her being out there. The couple that watched her thinks we are terrible for not telling our kids and have told us that repeatedly. They feel we are putting them in a position of lying. We tell them we just aren't sharing all the facts. We believe she has died. What good will come from sharing about her disappearing? We are tormented as adults. What would knowing the circumstances do to our kids except torment them as well? Risk our son's health? Our daughter has cried until her eyes are practically swollen shut. Right now they believe she is gone, died from causes they haven't even asked about because they saw her decline. In their minds they know why she died without us saying a word. A dog friend is buried on the couple's property. They think she is buried next to him and that is the one fact we made up. But she is probably on the property somewhere. She will never come home and that breaks all of our hearts. We had to provide an explanation for that and the kids never questioned it...only cried that they wished she would've died at home so should could be buried here. It is a burden not to be able to share my torment with anyone. It's why I'm writing this. The couple that watched her and my husband are the only ones that know the anguish of how she was lost. The couple makes me feel bad every time I've talked to them because they keep telling me I'm lying and they feel it's the wrong thing not to tell the kids she vanished and we don't know where she is exactly or how she died, or even if she is really dead. I can't imagine she isn't. There are only a handful of neighbors spread out over acres and acres of woods. And my husband's heart is broken enough without me telling him how upset I am not knowing where she is. He always took such good care of her. Stood outside with her every time she went to the bathroom in our yard, and we live in a suburban area. He was always afraid a coyote or hawk might get her. He spent seven seconds checking for raccoons so they didn't harm her, he turned around, and she was gone. My poor husband. He is devastated. I can't tell friends because I'm too afraid someone will slip up and say something. I am going to take the circumstances of her death to my grave. Except here. I'm thankful that here I can share what happened with strangers...strangers who are somehow more than that because they know the grief of losing a pet they love. Our children are out of the home at the moment and it's the first time I've been able to really break down and cry about the terrible way she left us. I've read about dogs going off to die. Maybe she did that. But if she did, I believe it was because she was afraid and confused, not to spare our feelings. I just can't believe she is gone. And I can't believe she left this way. We owed her more than this. I wish I could go back and give her a comfortable transition...put her to sleep in my arms. Warm and safe in her own home. I looked into that option so I would be prepared if the time ever came. Prepared to have someone come to our house, versus taking her to the vet to be put to sleep. I wanted her to feel as loved and safe as possible if and when the time came. I thought she would live for years. Content. Not happy--as much as we wanted that for her. Not in pain. But content eating and sleeping and being loved by her family for several more years. I thought confusion is no reason to put her to sleep. The vets never even suggested it. They were happy she was eating. They said CCD is fairly common and we just needed to know that she won't be the same as she was before. But I think it may have been something else. Something they missed. How else could she have declined so rapidly? We will never know but I wish with all my heart that we could go back in time and spare her this terrible ending to her precious life. I just hope and pray she is already free from the confines of her body. That she went as quickly and as painlessly as possible. That somehow she was at peace when she passed. And I'm crying again because I know our sweet little bear didn't go peacefully in the rain on the dark night she vanished. Dear God, please help me bear this pain. Please, I pray, may our Little Bear be with you now. I am thankful for the gift that she was in our lives. I'm thankful to anyone who made it to the end of this post with compassion in their hearts for the pain we are in. If no one did, it still helped my heart to write it. May all who are grieving be blessed with peace. And if you are reading this, may you remember the blessing of the time you were able to share with those you love.

My baby of 8 yrs whom We spolied and loved more than ourselves was attacked & killed by another dog while boarding in a kennel facility while me & hubby were on vacation.We have no kids and he is our life!There is a huge guilt on our part.What if we didn’t leave him, what if we didn’t go on vacation, all sorts of “what if.”We’re so broken that we both can’t sleep sincecwe found out (12.22.18).We cry ourselves to sleep & wake up crying.We skipped the Christmas celebratiom as we’re both on bed and miserable.I myself can’t & won’t do anything.We haven’t gone back to work.I’ve been so depressed & can’t forgive myself!I’m still grieving for the death of my dear dad in Aug.And now this.. I can’t handle all the pain!So much emotions overwhelmed me.I don’t want to leave my bed as I can’t stand seeing the rest of the house especially our family room where he stayed for 8 yrs.We have our daily routine that haunts me every second.Please I need advice & help! Thanks!

My Sallie died on February 23, 2018. She was a standard poodle a few months away from 13 and she was getting older, she was lethargic and I could tell she had trouble with her hips. On Wednesday, two days before she died, my mom and I decided to take her to the beach. We had a beautiful glorious day running around, playing with her, and she was SO happy. Sallied hadn't really been to the beach before and she would occasionally reach down and eat sand or lick the water, whenever she did we would scold her. We spent about two hours on the beach and we were walking the whole time and never took our eyes off of her. Almost right after we left the beach she threw up, which we thought was normal, she's just trying to get the sand/salt water out of her system right? The following day she was fine, but towards the night she started throwing up even more. We called the vet and he said she's getting the sand out of her system and just don't give her any water so she can get it out. I woke on Friday to her crying and she managed to jump over the stool and get water. I felt bad, so I gave her the food and water bowl and went back to bed. Throughout the day on Friday we took her on walks and observed her, slowly gave her water and tried to feed her turkey (she wasn't eating anything). On Friday she threw up in the morning, but by the afternoon she wasn't throwing up and was just tired/sleepy. We thought she was resting and would sleep and eat and would be fine, she puked alot and all the sand seemed to have left her system. Towards the end of the day Friday, she looked fine, quite, but wasn't throwing up. So I decided to go to a dance performance and she was left alone for an hour (which I will always greatly regret). When my mom got back from the gym, she said Sallie was fine, not distressed, she drank water and rested. It wasn't until 10:30 that my mom noticed that she had took a turn for the worse, her health had so quickly declined. In the morning she was her normal self and now she could barley move. By a stroke of God, I made it home while she was still alive and just cuddled her, petted her, told her what a good dog she was. She shat herself and I just cleaned it up and kept near her. We carried her down to the car and rushed her to the ER, but she died on the way there, it was so peaceful that I hadn't even realized that she died. She just took her last breath. We will never know what Sallie died from, but a vet we spoke to, said a healthy, young dog, who ate some sand and drank a little water would've been fine. She must've been suffering from something else, cancer, liver failure, heart failure, and the beach just made whatever she had speed up. I will always regret that I didn't pamper her in her last day, but at least I was there, I really don't think I could've lived with myself if she died without me. I'm 17 and she has been in my life since I was 5, she was my family, my sister. I wished I had pampered her more in her last day and had spent her last hours with her, instead of her last minutes. But we truly didn't know she was dying. On Friday the decline was so quick, that I don't think a vet could've saved her. They would've stabilized her and we would either put her down (which I couldn't live with) or we would have to choose between surgery. If we had to choose surgery I don't know what we would've done. We couldn't afford it and the chances that she survived would be slim, she's old and the surgery would've been invasive, painful, and traumatizing. Would I put her through that, just so she could live a couple more months in pain? We should've taken her in sooner, but I find solace knowing that she died with me petting her and not in some scary clinic. She HATED the vet and getting her haircut. She died naturally and the choice for us as her humans was taken out of our hands and (not now), but I think I will soon feel relief over the fact that she had a beautiful last day, a painful couple of hours, and then just fell asleep. Sallie was amazing: she ran across a polo field during a game, she peed in a strangers shoe, she stole food from peoples bags and they never noticed. Was her life perfect? No. But think of all the other dogs out there, who die alone in clinics, with no one to love them. Or dogs who died before they were a ripe old age. She had a beautiful, full life, she knew I loved her and I wish she was still here with us, but I know she's watching over me. I love you Sallie.

Hello. I’m very new here, and I don’t know where to begin except to say that I’m heartbroken. I apologize in advance if this post is long. A lot of terrible things happened to me, and there aren’t many places I can be myself and just talk about my feelings. My mother died suddenly and unexpectedly on April 12, 2017 at Ochsner of acute myeloid leukemia. It happened less than two weeks after her ENT initially suspected that she had cancer. None of us, not even mom herself, knew she sick, as she was so vibrant and active. It was devastating. She was truly the heart of our family. She and my father were married 51 years, and while Dad didn’t talk about the loss much, we all knew he was heartbroken. My father died February 13. I was living with him so I could take care of him after Mom passed away. Dad suffered from a lot of heath problems, including COPD, emphysema, diabetes, and an enlarged heart. He was very dependent on Mom, and I picked up where she left off the best I could, seeing that he took his meds, getting his meals ready, getting his CPAC and bed ready at night, etc. But I failed in my duties as a caretaker. I could have saved him. Dad has always had difficulty breathing, and around Thanksgiving, his feet began to swell. My sister and I noticed and offered to take him to the doctor. But he refused. As much as we loved him, he was a very stubborn man who refused to go to the doctor unless he needed his prescriptions refilled. By Christmas, his feet were looking really terrible, and his breathing was worse. My brother, sister, and I were begging him to go to the doctor. But he still refused, insisting that he was ok. What he did do was let me fix an Epsom salt soak for his feet. But the swelling didn’t go away. So I went behind his back and set up an appointment with his doctor for January 2. But the weather was terrible at the time, and he told me that it was too cold to go to the doctor and to cancel the appointment. His 6 month appointment was February 5, so I respected his wishes and cancelled it, making sure to keep the 2/5 appointment. On February 2, his CPAC machine broke. He told me to take a look at it, but I had no idea how to fix it, so I took it to Thrift Home Care (the local supplier for O2 and breathing supplies). I filled out the paperwork and was told that he would need a prescription from his doctor to get a new one. I took this as good news because it meant he couldn’t get out of going to the doctor this time. He would have to see the doctor whether he wanted to or not. We rode out a very rough weekend without his CPAC. He was going through 2 tanks of O2 a day, and I begged him to let me take him to the ER. My sister was calling twice a day, begging him to go. My brother was using pictures of his new grandson (his namesake) as leverage, begging him to go. But he refused to go and said he was right where he wanted to be. Sunday night, he even pulled a stunt trying to get out of going to the doctor on 2/5. He said, “I want you to call the doctor Monday, and get the prescription for me. Then I won’t have to go.” I informed him it doesn’t work that way, so if he wanted a new machine, he’d have to go whether he liked it or not. So on February 5, we went to the doctor as scheduled. I described all his symptoms: his difficulty breathing, his swollen feet, leaning over in his chair, falling asleep in his chair, etc. She suspected congestive heart failure and ran some tests. Then she set him up for a 2/15 appointment with a heart specialist. I also told her he needed a new CPAC, and she wrote the prescription. Dad was happy because he was ready for his CPAC. After dropping Dad off at home, I went to Thrift with the prescription, but they told me they didn’t have everything ready yet. They were waiting for Medicare and other paperwork. They gave me more O2, and I went home. Dad got crabby with me because he was expecting to get his CPAC right then so he could take a nice long nap. On February 6, Dad stumbled getting out of bed and wanted me to stay home with him (I am a school librarian). So I took the day and sat with Dad. All day I begged him to let me take him to the ER. My sister and brother were calling and begging him to get to the doctor. My aunt (his sister) begged him to go. But he would not go. We told him that if we called 911, an ambulance would come for him and he wouldn’t even have to get out of his chair. But he said he didn’t need an ambulance. I asked him if he wanted me to call my uncle (his BIL), or his best friend. But he said no, he was OK. On February 7, he finally got his new CPAC and had a great night’s sleep. We got the results of the tests and found he didn’t have congestive heart failure. For the first time in a week, I got a good night’s sleep, too. But things fell apart. His feet were still swollen, and he was still groggy, falling asleep in his chair. I was still begging him to let me take him to the doctor, but he just wouldn’t go. He slept until 2:30 on Saturday. He did NOT sleep well without his CPAC and thought I was helping him by letting him sleep in. My aunt called and hollered at me when she found out I was letting him sleep that late. She told me I was the most cowardly, irresponsible adult she had ever met, that I needed to grow up, take responsibility, and call an ambulance. I did NOT need to hear that after the week I’d just been through getting the new machine and hung up on her. Dad woke up, grouchy as a bear because his sleep had been disturbed, and I told him it was nearly 3 in the afternoon. After church on Sunday, I fed him meatloaf and green beans, meal he normally loved, and he just picked at it. This concerned me, and I asked if he wanted me to call an ambulance or someone to come over. He said he was OK and was going to hold out for the doctor’s appointment he had on Thursday. On Monday, April 12, I prepped the library for some visiting VIPs, got him a happy for Valentine’s Day, and went home to fix him dinner. He said he wanted ravioli, so I fixed that for him. He ate every bite while we watched Women’s Snowboarding and the Men’s Super G. He kept telling me how much he loved me, and I told him how much I loved him, too. Around 10PM, I got his bed and CPAC ready, and he got up for bed. He stumbled a little, and I asked him was he sure he didn’t want me to call someone, and he said no, as always. When he got to the bathroom, I curled up with a cheesy romance novel. I heard him bump around in the bathroom and asked if he wanted some help, and he said no, he just wanted to go to bed. So what did I do but curl up with that stupid, cheesy romance novel again and settle down for the night. I woke up at 2:30 with a strange feeling. I checked on Dad, and he was sleeping. I was glad he was going to let me take him to the doctor on Thursday. And what did I do but lay back down and go to sleep. I woke up at 5:45, got up and ready for work like I always did. I fixed Dad coffee, poured his orange juice, set out his meds, and even put out a slice of king cake for him as a treat because it was Mardi Gras. I looked in on Dad, but didn’t wake him up, then I left for work. I wish I had stayed home. I wish I had just called 911 and dealt with him later. My aunt called me at work because he wouldn’t answer the phone. I left ASAP and went straight home to find that he had passed away in bed and had been lying there while I was at work. I am such a miserable failure as a caretaker. I should have done a better job and never left his side for even a second. I know my aunt blames me for his death, and I feel like the rest of the family does, too. All I want is to be buried next to my parents. I’m sorry I failed you, Dad, and Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t take care of him. Please forgive me. I will love you both forever and wish I was good enough to see you again. Thank you for listening, TeasingGeorgia

Well, here it goes... My boyfriend and I decided to adopt a Husky/Alaskan Malamute mix... 14 months old. I am 24 years old and unemployed due to chronic pain, so we thought a dog would be a great companion... My boyfriend works 9-5, Monday-Friday so I spend a lot of time alone. Shiloh is a rescue dog, with extreme separation anxiety issues... but he has a great temperament. When taking the dog in, we took extra precaution with our precious guinea pigs. They are in a separate bedroom upstairs, blocked off with a gate in front of the cages, and we keep the door closed.. he is not allowed in the room. 5 days after bringing Shiloh home, my boyfriend's brother was visiting before he had to go to work. (He stays with us often) I was not feeling well, so decided to stay on the couch downstairs. My boyfriend was working. He was upstairs in the guinea pig's room with the door closed (that's also where he sleeps when he stays)... A few minutes after he had gone into the room, Shiloh went upstairs..I assumed he would lay in front of the door and wait for Jeremy as he usually does...... Minutes later I heard Jeremy screaming ,"HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE? No... NO....NOOOOOOOOO!!!! .... I"M SO SORRY!!!...." and my poor babies SCREAMING out for me to help them... I actually heard one of my babies suffering. REALLY suffering. I literally couldn't move... When all I could hear was Jeremy sobbing, I started making my way upstairs saying, "It's okay Jeremy!".. he said "no, it's not okay." Our baby Cogli was gone. Only 5 months old. Shiloh must have jumped up and opened the door with the handle... and it just happened so fast. I am soooo thankful that Shiloh didn't get to our other three, Rufus(Cogli's cagemate), Marshy and Nugget... But I have never felt pain like this. We decided to rehome the dog...I just can't bare the thought of him getting to another one of our pigs. He went to a 24 year old girl with PTSD and anxeity...and Rufus, Cogli's cagemate is doing well... But I just feel so sick.. Like there is something I could have done to prevent this. I'm trying to be strong for my guinea pigs and for Matt, but I just feel so empty!!

My mother passed away yesterday morning, & I'm feeling not only devastated, emotionally drained/shocked, but tremendously guilty. She was an amazing woman who had been sick since before I was born. About two years ago she had a bone marrow transplant, & unfortunately developed Graft vs Host Disease. She fought so hard to get her life back, but GvHD is a very, very ugly disease & won out in the end. My aunt flew my sisters & I out to decide if we should continue the aggressive treatment or put her in hospice. As her medical power of attorney (I'm the oldest & I didn't know I was power of attorney until a week before this as my mother never talked to me about her wishes & her will is lost somewhere in storage) I had the biggest say, but I insisted my sisters voice their opinion because they're her kids too. Ultimately the decision was to send her home to my grandparents where all her things were, with a great hospice. I kept it together until I had to sign the DNR form. It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, but I couldn't not sign it. The GvHD had rendered her blind, her body had stopped digesting food, her kidneys were failing, a stroke caused by a rare bacteria had rendered her paralyzed, barely coherent, & her body was all bloated from steroids & her skin was bruised, cracked, & bleeding in places. Earlier that day when I had my alone time with her & said everything I felt I needed to, she asked me to help her. It killed me to do it, but I signed it. I had to leave the next morning to come home out-of-state to tend to my sick one year old & his dad, & got the call early Saturday morning after having an extremely vivid dream where she told me she loved me (& I truly believe it was her spirit reaching out to me). She was surrounded by my sisters & the love of people who knew her, listening to her favorite music. Not hooked up to machines or in any pain. I keep telling myself she wanted it this way, reminding myself of all the times during the past two days she told one of my sisters (who was in denial & didn't want her to leave the hospital) she wanted to move on, of my own experience of her begging me to help her because she was in so much pain & suffering. That she was trapped in that sick body & she had reached her limit. Despite all of this, I feel so much guilt & it's tearing me apart. I know I didn't kill my mom or anything, but I still feel like she died because of me. Like maybe I should've convinced my family she had a fighting chance. But then I remember that the doctors said she'd be paralyzed, bedridden, & blind her entire life with her mental capacity even possibly worse & that my mother never would've wanted to live a life like that. Sorry this is so long. I miss my mom so much & we lost her so quickly. It just sucks & hurts so very much.

My husband was working a night shift so I decided to take them for a walk through the forest in the rain alone. I did this because when it's raining there are no other dogs out so they get in less fights. They don't attack but bark and bark. I thought I was being good by walking them. The big dog hates the car. When he senses we are walking back to the car he tries to run away. He will run away, hide for a bit and then prance back into almost an arm's reach and then bounce away again. Normally after running around for 10-20 minutes, attempting to trick him and attempts to grab him I could get him and put him on a lead, so that he was safe walking past the road. But 2 nights ago he was taking it to extremes. I must have spent 30 mins just trying to grab him. In the end I decided to take the smaller dog to the car. I sat in it and watched as Sony walked down the hill bit by bit towards the car. He goes past the gate behind the car and I get out and try to call him over. He runs away. I wait again and next he comes right up against the car. This time I get out with treats. He doesn't care about them and runs away. So far it's been 40-50 minutes of me trying to catch him. I ring my husband but my phone is playing up and wont connect properly. I see he is now in front of the car but I didn't think he would go so far as the road. I text my husband and when I look up he has actually crossed the road into the field. I panic and decide to drive around the corner, hoping he would panic seeing me leave. After a minute I drive back to where he is. He recognises the car and bounces over as if he's happy I'm back. I get out of the car thinking he would come over. Nope he bounces away again. I actually open the windows thinking he would come over if I'm not out of the vehicle and I can maybe grab him. But by now it's pouring and my business papers are getting soaked. The look he is giving me is one of defiance, as if to say "I'm not getting in the car and there's nothing you can do about it." I decide to take the little dog home because he is crying and struggling by this stage being in the boot so long. I think I can get my husband and we can corner him together. I am only away a few minutes but by the time I get back he has been hit and a car is damaged. Thankfully no human is injured. He died without me or my husband. But I failed. What I should have done was waited at the gate and blocked it so he couldn't get past me. My husband was coming so I could have stayed there, I just didn't know how long he would be or if he was definitely coming because the stupid phone kept cutting out. But I was tired and soaked by this stage. I really didn't think he would run into the road when a car was there. Now I will never see his fluffy smile again. I had plans for his future, hikes together and a ham bone I hadn't given to him yet. I just hate myself. I really loved him. Now my little dog has realised something is wrong and keeps crying and looking for him. He was only a year and a half old which makes me feel so bad because I should have protected him for at least another 8 years minimum. I hear people on this site and others talk about seeing them in the next life or even in dreams. I hope that's true because I can't bear not seeing him again. I found out his name was Sunny, not Sony. I heard it wrong when I picked him up the first time. I like this because it makes me think he is somewhere warm and bright. This is now the biggest mistake of my life. Do you think I did enough? I tried so hard but the one thing I could have done to save him I didn't do. <3 Sony <3

It's been a week since I received the horrible phone call that my baby passed away at the Vet's. His name was Nathaniel. I loved him so much. We shared a special bond that I'm not sure that I will ever share with another being. Nathaniel, was almost 17 years old. I got him as a kitten. He's been through so much with me. My first house, my divorce, different moves while I figured out my life, my new relationship and he came to love my new husband. He was a constant. He was someone who never let me down. Recently he was starting to show the signs of aging. But whenever he would seem sick, he would bounce back. I had him on a special diet for his kidneys and he took medicine twice a day for his thyroid. The past couple of years he had some chronic constipation issues. I did my best to stay on top of it. If I noticed he was struggling, I had medicine on hand to deal with it. If I didn't notice quick enough I would have to bring him to the vet and they would hydrate him and give him an enema which I am sure was not pleasant for him. One of my other cats started going in his litter box, making it difficult to detect, also more life responsibilities made it harder to stay on top of it. It just got to be a very busy time and I hate myself for not noticing his pains sooner. One night I was up late working and he came and sat beside me gave me his snuggles and love. Then suddenly he was acting strange. I could tell something was wrong. I thought it was the same issue. I gave him his medicine and thought, if he was still acting strange in the morning, I would bring him to the vet first thing. He seemed ok the next morning. So I went on with my day and never looked back until now. I'm in the process of buying a house, so that weekend got busy and I wasn't home too much. Then Monday and Tuesday I had some commitments at night. But that Tuesday night he slept with me in my bed and we snuggled almost the whole night. I woke up at about 4 or 5 am to him peeing in our bedroom (which he never does). I sat with him for a bit and he seemed ok for a bit. So I went back to bed. That morning he was running back and forth to the litter box, so I took him to the vet. They told me it was the same chronic issue we were used to dealing with, but he needed an enema. Later that day they called me and said he was a great patient and that he was doing ok and that they did his blood work and that I was doing a good job with the food and the medicine and was controlling his health issues. They wanted to keep him for the night to keep him hydrated, but they thought he should be fine to go home the next day. I was relieved. I was feeling so guilty that I did not notice his pain quick enough and had to put him through that enema again. I really felt awful! I was beating myself up about it, so I was excited to get him back home to spoil him and give him all of the kisses. However a few hours later, I was on my way home from work, and my vet call and said Nathaniel was acting strange. He was also trying to hide. She checked his heart and apparently he had a heart murmur. I don't know much about heart murmurs, but she seemed very concerned and asked if he was acting lethargic. And I said, yes. I thought it was because he was old and on medicine etc. She said they do not have people at the vets over night to monitor the animals but if I wanted, I could move him to a facility that would monitor him through the night. But if he stayed she would start some tests on his heart first thing in the morning. If not, she recommended I have the new facility do this. I decided to not do move him because A. I didn't want to stress him out more and B. I felt comfortable with this vet and her plans for the morning. (I now don't think that was a good decision) I debated on stopping by the vet that night to see him. But I talked myself out of it because it would have been a lot of rushing around and my husband mentioned that he might be "out of it" anyways. So I didn't stop by. The next morning I got the call that he was not alive in the morning. My baby passed away at some point during the night at the vets. The amount of guilt I feel about this is inconsolable. I had him go through that enema which was uncomfortable so he was in pain his last day on earth. I didn't get to say good bye. My stupid life was too busy to stop by and visit him. My stupid life craziness was too busy to take him to the vet the week prior when he first show signs of something was wrong. And I knew he was old. I knew the day was coming but, I envisioned him in my arms or at my house or in some kind of setting where he knew he was surround by love. The fact that he passed away at the vet in a scary place saddens me. He deserved better! He at least deserved a last scratch behind the ears. Or lots of kisses and snuggles. I didn't get to give him any of those. I hope he knows that I was coming back for him and planning to love him and would never leave him at the vet's unless I had to for his well being. I hate that his last day was horrible for him. And it was all of my fault. I should have asked more questions about why he was lethargic and why he kept getting constipated. I should have pushed for more tests. Anyways I'm torn up about this. I keep thinking I can see him in the corning of my eye. I feel him walking on my bed at night. I'm not handling this well at all. I miss him so much. He was the sweetest cat I ever met. He would know when I was sad and snuggle with me. He was so forgiving if someone didn't realize he was there and would accidentally bump him. He was the best and this hole in my heart is aching like crazy. I'm going to be grieving the loss of this special soul for a very long time. Thank you for listening. I know this guilt isn't helping me. But I just can't get past it.

I just don't know how to cope with what I'm feeling right now. I've dealt with severe depression before but this is a sadness and guilt like I've never known. At 7:00 last night, my puppy, my best friend, was struck and killed by a car. But I feel like it's entirely my fault. His favorite thing in the world is to go on car rides. My brother and I were going to get something to eat, so I decided to bring him along. He was his happiest self in the car, sticking his face out the window with the biggest grin on his face. I even took a video of him dated just a few minutes before he died, which is attached to this post. Usually when I get out of the car when he's inside, I make sure he's sitting and staying before I open the door. This is the one time I didn't, because he was in the backseat so I thought there was no way he could get out. But I was wrong. He jumped through the crack between my seat and the door, and before I knew it he'd hit the ground running. He'd run off a million times before, so we were sure we would catch him. He was even just out of my arms' reach at one point but I just couldn't snag him. My brother almost had him and ran after him, but my dog tried to escape and ran right into the road. It's this part that really kills me. I didn't see the car hit him, but my brother did. My brother said the car hit my dog in the back and spun him around, and that my dog made eye contact with my brother and the look on his face said "Help me," like he knew he'd made a mistake. And then he just kind of laid down in the road. My brother said that face will haunt him forever. The driver didn't even slow down. My puppy had never been out in traffic before. He didn't know the damage a car could do. My brother stopped another car from hitting him (what is wrong with people, STOP or at least SLOW DOWN), picked him up, and carried him back to me. I was in shock. My puppy was still moving a little bit, kicking his legs, trying to breathe. I called 911 - I didn't know what else to do - and begged them to please please please please send whatever they could right now. They could only send a police officer, and by the time he got there, my puppy was gone. I watched him die. I just kept petting him and telling him what a good dog he was and how much I loved him. I don't know when exactly he died so I hope to God that he heard me and that he died knowing how loved and cared for he was. I closed his mouth. I tried to close his eyes but they wouldn't close. I called my parents and they came and met us. We weren't even home, so we had to wrap his body in a blanket and drive him 20 minutes back to our house. We laid him on our porch swing while my dad and brother dug his grave. I couldn't leave his side. I just held him and stroked his fur and sobbed and kept telling him over and over how much I loved him and, "You're such a good boy." I was numb watching my dad put him in the ground. Then I was completely lost. I didn't want to eat, sleep, watch TV, anything. I'm completely distraught. An hour ago, my brother and I dug back down to his grave and laid his favorite toys, a few treats, and a bunch of Cheez-Its (his favorite human food) down in his grave. We listed a bunch of things we'd miss about him and said a prayer over his grave once we laid the sod back on top. I truly don't know how I'm going to move on from this. Or the memory of this. Or the guilt. This dog helped me through so much. I've had him since I was 10 and I'm 22 now. He helped me through depression, anxiety, suicide attempts, broken hearts, abusive parents, everything. He was so innocent and happy and deserved nothing but goodness. He must have been so scared and in pain, and that's what kills me the most. This little pure beam of sunshine having to know such pain and agony. I need to know that dogs go to heaven, that he's happy and healthy and that I'll see him again and be able to apologize to him and tell him I love him and feel his unconditional love again. Imagining the alternative makes me want to die. My puppy was 12 years old, but he still had all the energy of a puppy so it doesn't really feel like he lived that long. I suppose it's of some comfort that he never had to experience the limits that old age would have put on his bod, but it just hurts so much to imagine all the potential years he had left to live, all the memories we could have made. It's so surreal to think that just a few hours ago he was licking me and I was petting him and he was running around the house and happy riding in the car with the wind through his fur and now he's dead in the ground. The pain is unbearable. Can anyone please give me some advice on how to go through this? Or just give me some peace of mind? Do you believe that dogs go to heaven and that I'll see him again? I can't stop thinking about all the things I could have done differently to prevent his death. I feel like I've sobbed my body weight in tears and I just don't know how I'm going to be able to face tomorrow. IMG_1537.MP4

Dear all, my name is Karin and I lost my beloved Mother 4 years ago. (Please excuse my sometimes broken English, I am writing this from Sweden..) I want to share my story with you..My Mum lived in a nursing home for 15 years ever since she got paralized from her second stroke in 1998. She died in pneumonia.They had told us that it would take some time, she was totally awake and looked like she used to.I was there during days and nights, and during the nights she sometimes had abnormal breathing patterns. The last night she had very fast breathing that started in the evening, and when I came in to her room at 12 in the night, it had gotten worse.She looked at me very intesively and the breathing was very fast and loud, but no sounds of fluids in the lungs. It was so stressful to sit by her side during that labored breathing.I finally rang the nurse who came and gave her an injection of 7.5 mg Morphine and 5 mg Stesolide. Maybe it got a little better, but the breathing was still very fast.I panicked and rang the nurse after only 30 minutes, and I was thinking "what are you doing, the 4 hours that was supposed to be between the doses, what about that"?! But I wanted to help her so desperately. AND they had agrees to try and save her after my brother and I had begged them to.They shouldn´t agreed to that..our Mother had been ill for 25 years and we were in denial, just couldn´t get into our heds that this was it.. So that last night, I was in my best rescuing mood..:( I don´t understand today how I could think that more Morphine would help her, but that night I wasn´t myself.. Anyway, the nurse came and said she could have a little more.I don´t know how much she gave her, but two hours later my Mum died. I feel like it´s my fault, I am convinced she would have lived two days longer if she hadn´t gotten that second injection.She was totally alerte and awake.. Every day is torture for me now, and i don´t know how to move on with this guilt. If there´s anyone who has any advice please tell me..thanks so much

I am having a real hard time dealing with everything it's three months my mum left us.

It has been nearly three months since my mother passed away and I miss her terribly. She could be warm, funny, and a great conversationalist but I am filled with guilt as I type this. She could also be so abusive that I carry a diagnosis of complex PTSD. She was hospitalized in the final two months of her life and despite her declining health, she was charming, funny and nurturing to the doctors, nurses, friends, and family members around her. She was none of those things to me. She said horrific things to me. From the start my mother loved me (she told me so) but she deeply disliked me. She was very close to my brother and (later) his wife, and I am working very hard to not let my jealousy hurt my relationship with them. It was no more their fault than it was mine. People still email me and talk about what wonderful things she did for them and how kind she was. They are mourning her too but they knew a different person that I did. So, where do I go from here? I loved my mother very much. I made a conscious decision to forgive her and, when moments of honesty happened and she seemed to show an awareness of how she treated me, I told her so. I told her I loved her and that it didn't matter anymore. I worked very hard in the final 10 years of her life to build a solid relationship with her. What I learned after her death was that we were really no closer than she was to her friends at church. She confided and was open to my sister-in-law and one or two very close friends. OK, I am glad she had a support system, but I feel very hurt. I really don't know how to move forward.

Hi, I am not quite sure why I am posting this, I guess to vent out as I have no other outlet. My mother was 62 type two diabetes and suffered from hypertension for many years. She developed Chikungunya infection according to our family physician on 24-26 Sep and on the 29th sudden back and abdominal pain, however fever had subsided. There was dengue and chikungunya epidemic in India at this time and the Physician who had been treating her for nearly 20 years went by her symptoms. The Initial blood test which he finally took on the 29th after her condition deteriorated revealed low platelet count 95,000 which he said was still 'safe', the only thing he said was that it was important to keep her hydrated so she needed a drip at any local hospital. By this time she could barely move and her abdominal pain just got worse and it was badly swollen, all this time she kept saying she was fine and that she will be fine. Our father was abroad and it was only myself and my younger brother, we had no other friend or family except an aunt who herself had suffered chikungunya. By this time we really got worried because mum could not even move to use the bathroom. She had not passed urine for a day not had a bowel movement for a day, but this we thought was because she was not eating and drinking for two days and also because she was extremely weak to get up and use the loo. We finally convinced her to come to hospital as she was not getting better and the fever usually lasts 5-7 days and people start getting better while she didn't. We took her to emergency at a large private hospital and they ran tests saw her low platelet report which was worrying they said and found that her creatinine and potassium was too high she had electrolyte imbalance and her kidneys have shut down, also she had acidosis. They put her on dialysis and she kept getting worse although levels did come down. On second day in ICU they found air leaking from her intestine, they said she needed emergency surgery with only a 10% survival chance, she made it through surgery they said she had perforation peritonitis. The next day morning her BP dropped. They gave her meds to increase BP but nothing worked, last resort was blood transfusion but she passed away in septic shock. We are not aware of any diverticulitis or similar problem, she didn't have any abdominal pain recently only she went to to toilet a lot, this was not unusual as she always said she has soft bowel. How could we have saved her? They diagnosed perforation after 36hours in Hospital through x-ray. What might have caused the perforation? Was chukungunya responsible? How soon if we had taken her to hospital she would have survived? I lost the most amazing person in my life, I never ever expected that my beautiful mum would just leave like this, on the second day even though she had all the tubes, central IV, food pipes etc, she believed me when Intold her that they were only going to clean her blood because she had bad toxins that were causing her problems, she listened to me and that's it, that's the last time we spoke and she heard me, after that she was sedated because she she was on ventilator, we didn't get the chance to say good bye, she is only 62, none of us are married, she will never see anyone's wedding if that at all happens, i never expressed how much she meant to us, that i valued every single sacrifice she made for us, i was recently frustrated as everything in my life especially work had taken a turn for the worse, I was isolated, I have no friends, I look after the house also and I get frustrated with household duties and responsibilities, I barely had time for myself or to sit and reflect over things with my mum, I did break down a couple of times and she had promised me that she will support me in anything I chose to do in future, I feel guilty as I should have not complained to her about anything and pretended that all is well like I had done in the past, I didn't express my love and gratitude as much as I should have. We had come to India and we're meant to go back to Uk in july, however a wedding on her side came up which she wanted to attend so much, I hate weddings I had said no but later I consented because she'd said they won't go without me, so we ended up changing reservations. After that Diwali was so near and I said since we are staying back maybe we could celebrate it together and then go back. This is the biggest mistake of my life, it turned out to be the darkest Diwali because she passed away two weeks before that! If I had not said this, we would have gone back in August and none of this would have happened, perhaps it was chikungunya that caused kidney failure and perforation, which eventually led to sepsis and ultimately she died of septic shock. I kept looking at her while she was sick but I had never imagined that between the 26th and 3rd she would just not live! Even with viral it takes 3-4 days at least until people get better, I was ignorant, i should have opened my mind and my eyes and taken her to hospital as soon as she developed abdominal pain but I didn't and she would have not consented, she had more trouble getting up because she was overweight, nearly 100 kgs. We left it too long, my negligence killed her, all education etc went waste because i behaved worse than anyone I know. I hate myself, it's just horrible how I feel now, she just left us so suddenly and abruptly, my brother is in depression, I am pulling things together and I see darkness everywhere, life has no meaning, no purpose I wish She would have taken me with her, i can't bear this loneliness, it's awful. I could have saved her if I had taken her to hospital even two days before, I could have saved her if we had taken her to a good gastroentologist to check why she went to the toilet so much. But we took her to a reputed gastro last year and he was awful and my mum felt very depressed, he had ordered some tests which she never took. We could not force her because she had improved. Before the fever her August bloods were perfect her creatinine, potassium etc were all in perfect normal ranges. I fail to understand how she deteriorated in literally 5-6 days and was deemed critical as soon as we reached emergency. I never ever thought I would lose her like this, she didn't even talk to us before going, she loved her children more than anything and anybody in the world, she was completely selfless, I just wish I could have expressed more and had the peace of mind that I didn't leave any stone unturned in trying to save her, but the fact that I didn't haunts me all the time, I keep looking at forums, at diagnosis of the disease to understand what happened to her and why so quickly that her body didn't get any chance to recoup. Once a person dies, he/she just dies, it's a lie when people say she is with you, that her soul is with you, I don't have any such feeling all I know is that she is dead, I held her cold feet in the ICU watching as her blood pressure dropped but at the end I could not beat it anymore when they said she will not make it, I left the room eventually so our father and her brother could be with her. I simply didn't want to have the picture of her dying for the rest of my life, perhaps I hurt her she must have looked for me, because they say that even after you pass you can hear.. I hate myself, I wish I had taken better care of her, never complained about silly things and showed her more that I love her and that I'd need her no matter how old I grow. We celebrated her birthday 12 days before she left us.. it's horrible and unfair, she had a blind faith in God and this is what she got. There's so much I could have possibly done to prevent what haooebed, if only we'd gone back in August she would have not fallen sick or if we had been in london the doctors are more efficient and they would have saved her rather than ignoring her perforation symptoms Pls help as these answers will put my mind to rest and give me some clarity. Heartfelt thank uou

I lost my dad a couple of days ago. I can't believe he's gone, I cannot accept it when i look at his face in the coffin, I wished so bad that he would wake up right now. He left us so suddenly and so soon. I wish i was a better daughter to him, I am just riddled with guilt and regret. I wish I could hold him one more time, I wish I could kiss him one last time, I wish I could tell him how much I love him and need him. That he cannot go and I need him. I wished i spent more time knowing my dad the year before, we drifted apart because he was into a sect/cult and i did not approve of his beliefs and we grew distant. I was angry with him. But i regret it so much, I wish I could undo it all and give him all my love. But I cannot do it anymore and he cannot hear me anymore. I am so consumed by my guilt and loss . I feel like I took my dad for granted that he would always be around for me to mend my mistakes. The months prior to his death he had a stroke and he was recovering, we connected little more but i felt i didn't do enough. Then he had a second stroke, I was away on a trip but I flew right back to see him, by then he wasn't really conscious or aware because of the impact on the brain. The last 2 weeks he was tied down on his bed because he kept trying to escape and scratching himself. I felt like he let go because he couldn't take how his life has turn out to be in the last two months. I feel guilty that i allowed that to happen, I felt guilty I didn't encourage him enough. I was listening to the song "The Scientist" by coldplay and I wish I could go back to the start. Please, someone tell me what can i do.

My brother passed away almost 2 months back and this is the first time I am writing anything anywhere regarding the same. I still cannot digest the fact he's not there anymore. I have not cried properly even once since the day he went away. I go to the office everyday, laugh on jokes, go out at times, eat out and talk normally to people around me. I feel so damn guilty about doing any of these things. It feels as if nothing has changed for me, everything is going as it was before that unfortunate day and he no longer exists in this world. His life stopped that very day. We were so damn close but still it has not affected my life so much. It is killing me from inside but I am not able to do anything about it.

My Mom passed away in late July. She was almost 93 and overall her health was good. She lived at her home but after a broken hip surgery she first required 24/7 care, then she had a 24 h caregiver from Mondays to Fridays but she left and we could only get a replacement who would come during the day Mondays to Fridays. She was supposed to stay overnight whenever my Mom needed her. I live very far from my Mom, in another country, 16 h flight. I had a good, though not perfect relationship and I deeply cared for her. I took time off when she had the surgery, I would call in the weekends and talked for hours, I would go to visit about a month each year. My sister lives in the same city as my Mom but their relationship was not that good during the last years. My sister would provide material and economical help, as I did, but not much else; would visit a few minutes on Saturdays and on special occasions. She had an attitude towards my mother and I tried in vain to tell her to be kinder. She believes the elderly belong to a nursing home My Mom died of a heart attack at home on a Saturday . Looking at it this way, it is not a bad way to die. But my problems relate to the days before her death, when I failed to see and/ or act in her best interests. I called her on Tuesday evening and she told me she fell that morning, and tried to get up but didn’t have the strength. She said she misstepped. The caregiver was about to arrive, so I told her there was no need to strain herself. But she said she did it because she wanted to get up alone. She said the leg was hurting a lot and I told her to call a doctor and in the meantime (since she was alone) to ask a neighbour to give her a hand with supper. She refused. I thought of telling my sister but considered it counterproductive (my Mom had forbidden the caregiver to tell us that she fell, especially my sister; I found out by chance because I called that Tuesday). I called Wednesday morning and she said she was sore, I told her to ask the caregiver to give her a massage but I cannot remember if I reminded her that the caregiver should stay if needed. I called that night again and she told me she was feeling better. I felt relieved. But when I called her the next evening, she told me she had had the worst night in her life. That she fell again, when alone at night, in the bedroom, that she fought to get up and couldn’t, until her strength gave up on her and fell asleep “like a dog on the floor", that she was cold (it is winter there although the floor is carpet), and couldn’t call anyone because she didn’t have the phone with her. She was really distraught and said that she was “good for nothing, look of what has become of myself”. I was broken-hearted, speechless, numb. I asked how she fell and she said that because she was feeling better, she “was careless” but I couldn’t get out of her exactly what happened (I spoke recently to the caregiver and she didn’t know either). The caregiver found her in the morning and helped her to bed and brought her hot food until she left later that day. I told her to call the doctor and she said that she was going to get through this, and if she didn’t “one day I have to go” (but she had said that many times). Again I did not tell my sister even if I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen. The next day (Friday) I had a day trip but I called her as soon I got to destination. She seemed OK, I told her again to call the doctor and she said that she just needed to rest. Later on, I thought to call her before returning home (I was arriving very late) but I was afraid that, if she was in bed, she would get up and fall again. So I called on Saturday morning. My sister was there and she said my Mom had not gotten up for breakfast and told her what happened that week and my sister said to call the doctor and she told her not to, because that would be an excuse to send her after to a nursing home. They started arguing. I tried to intervene by phone. My mom said not to worry, that she would not be a burden for too long, that she had lived long enough (again she had said it before). I told her that we cared for her and she said I did but my sister didn’t. I tried to mend things up and for a moment things got a lot worse until I told them to bury the hatched and show some love to each other instead of conflict. Things calmed down, my Mom went to eat something, and my sister said she thought at one point she fell asleep, but then continued eating. She said she was going to check on Mom Sunday and I thought to myself if it wouldn’t be too late, but said nothing. My sister said she ate well and then went to bed. I called later than afternoon as I always did on Saturdays, and my Mom was gone. I know I failed her. Every decision I made that week was the wrong one. My Mom trusted me and my opinion, although she was very stubborn and would probably had done what she wanted. Nevertheless I failed to tell my sister because I did not want a confrontation about the nursing home, but should have dealt with that if the time came. I am pretty sure I forgot to remind her that the caregiver had to stay overnight if needed. We could have called the doctor even if she refused. I was very worried but didn’t act with urgency. She didn’t have to fall the second time had I done something. Even on Saturday, I got involved in an argument I never wanted to. Things got so confusing that instead of dealing with the important issue (her health), it went on a tangent. The physical strain and stress of being unable to get up, the cold (apparently she grabbed the pillow but not a cover/clothes) and the argument on Saturday was probably the perfect recipe for a heart attack. Now I have to live with that, now I have to live knowing that I contributed to her death, the death of the person I loved the most in my life. Outside myself I continue with my “normal” life, but each time my mind is not occupied, it drifts to those last 4 days my Mom was alive and all the mistakes I made that precipitated her death. I know I couldn’t predict the future, that maybe the end result could have been the same or worse, that nothing will bring her back, that I had no intent to harm her, acted on what I thought was the best and that she would hate to see me this way (she said at one point she was more worried about me than her). But the fact remains that, had I done at least 1 thing right that week, she shouldn’t have died that day.

I thought this was a pretty interesting read from Dr. Phil.

See below.