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Found 10 results

  1. Hi, I’m back I wanna give a quick update on how things are right now and how i’m dealing with my father’s death. I had my birthday a little over a month ago now, and things are really going wild. Anxiety is really spiking and I’ve been having frequent panic attacks, I never had one before I started dealing with grief. After my father died, I am genuinely petrified with the idea of death and the idea that I can’t escape death, even more when I realize that I am very much vulnerable and can die anytime. Maybe it’s the fact that not even my father could escaped death, it hits me really hard because he’s my hero, my protector, and someone who leads and teaches me. Being the complete opposite of my father, i feel really vulnerable and it messes up my mind. Ever since the 2nd month after his death, I haven’t skipped a day without thinking that I will die tomorrow, even when there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m physically healthy, and I’m only 20 years old. I can’t disassociate the things that my dad experienced before he died (like attending concert, eating the same food as his last meal, or singing) as a sign that I’m going to die as well. It’s tiring, and I want this to end. Is this really the sign that I’m dying? or is it just a normal reaction to the realization of my mortality? every little things make me overthink about my death. Even though I’m really terrified right now, i believe that it really has something to do about my grief towards my father’s death bcuz I didn’t experience any of this prior to his death. Any advice will be very helpful, thank you!
  2. Feb 6, 2023. For days I have been able to keep my emotions under control in dealing with the decision to put Bambaloo to rest. When the thought of sadness begins to enter my mind, I quickly distract myself with a project. Am I in the denial part of grieving, for the anger part is pretty much over. Second guessing is entering my mind, doubting my decision to end Bambaloo's life to quickly and making excuses to myself that other's pressured me to act quickly because she will get worse fast. No Diabetes is not a death sentence for dogs, but it surely doesn't help when a person cannot afford the supplies. The plan was to care for her without meds, change her diet, and let things run it's course. She was actually doing very well except for the cold weather. But repeatedly being told by the vets all the terrible things that could happen within days, such as her possibly going blind overnight. Or she could be in excruciating pain. Oh, it happened to someone else I was told sealing her life sentence. It didn't matter I read in more than one scientific paper on the subject of Diabetes in dogs, that they can live up to 2 years untreated. Of course, untreated will allow the other conditions associated with that disease to progress. Well, who really knows the facts? I listened to my vets, and I went into panic mode. The guilt hit me today when I saw her photo. Did I act to hastily? I knew there are so many grants out there to help people in need for vet bills. I found them. I just needed to fill some out. But my mind was in such a tizzy, I didn't know which way to turn or who to turn too for advice for everyone was saying put her out of her misery. Well, as I reflect, she wasn't in misery. In fact, she showed no signs of Diabetes other than drinking more water. She ate, she vomited a couple times probably because I gave her to much to eat. She had no pain other than the effect of the cold on her arthritis. I know second guessing only beats up my mind and in turn, my body. It makes my legs weak and walk in a slouched position. Her photo's take on a new meaning now. Did I cheat her? I did quickly buy her a steak and made her 'special' dinner. Did I lie to her? Did I trick her? It doesn't matter for what is done is done. I cannot bring her back and did in fact out of curiosity, look at other Australian Cattle dog photos last night. It's strange, that none had that look she had. I guess I was lucky. But, I have to continue on and learn from my actions. Whether they were hasty or not. Believe me, I did not sleep for 36 hours straight when the vet said, she MAY have Diabetes. She MAY have kidney failure. All the maybe's put me in a panic mode. Those nights I cried for I just didn't know what to do as she came and laid by me to comfort me. I did learn sadly, at her expense, not to just jump at the first signs of an issue and listening to others over my own judgement. Second guessing does not help at all. It will be awhile for me to move to the next step in grieving for my other dog has been affected by Bambaloo's disappearance. I cannot beat myself up over this and will move into the next level of acceptance. But in just a flicker of a candle's flame, I can be right back into anger mode. Oh well, it is another challenge to face in life.
  3. ~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.
  4. 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
  5. My father died unexpectedly of a heart attack in February. I happened to be home visiting and was there the night he died. He was not only my father but a great friend, he used to make me howl with laughter. The last conversation I had with him, the night before he died, I asked if he wanted me to pick him up a burrito (after already re-heating leftovers for him) and he said he was much too full to eat any more food, but that he loved me and was so proud of me. He died in his sleep that night. Quietly and without a fuss, it was just the way he wanted, but I still can't believe the physical and emotional pain I have endured. I've lost 30 pounds since he died, have had awful anxiety and depression, and couldn't eat anything for the first couple months. I'm seeing a therapist, and am close with my siblings and mother, but the loss is so palpable, it makes it hard to breathe. I had a vivid dream of him last night and woke up feeling awful. Tomorrow is his birthday. My sister wants to get a cake for him but I'm not sure how I feel about that. I like the idea of getting Mexican food and margaritas (his absolute favorite), but am having such a hard even thinking about celebrating in any way. As I type this I am sobbing in my office, feverishly wiping my eyes and nose so that nobody sees me crying. I'm only 31 and he was 71 when he died. All my friends are losing grandparents and having kids and I am just stuck in this grief. I used to want to start my family soon but my grief is so strong I know I'm not ready. I've been dreading his birthday since he died and I just don't know how to keep going. Thank you for listening to me. <3
  6. On February 24th, I went to see a friend in the hospital. She had been admitted due to an issue with her pregnancy. The entire time I felt like I was screaming and trying to escape the hospital. I was having panic attacks just entering into a hospital. When I looked at my friend in her hospital bed, I kept picturing my mom. The entire experience was horrific. My mom spent the last 6 weeks of her life in the hospital with complication after complication. I watched as her body shut down and no one could tell me why. I sat next to her bedside and pleaded with god not to take her yet. Even as she was "getting better", I was unaware of the fact that cancer was eating away at her. I was unaware that the procedures the doctors were putting her through were useless because she had no chance at survival. To say the very least, hospitals scare me now. My boyfriend though was next to me and noticed that something was wrong. He's seen me have panic attacks and still smile and try to leave everyone around me blissfully unaware. He rushed the visit and as soon as I went outside, I took a deep breath, holding back tears. Has anyone else gone through this? I worry I'm always going to fear hospitals. Its only been 3 months since my moms passing, but she was young and it was sudden. She had heart surgery, a stroke, developed gangrene, blood clots and on top of it had stage 4 cancer that no one knew about. I feel like I've lost trust in the hospital system.
  7. Growing up my dad wasn't around because he was doing drugs and was a drug dealer. He ended up going to prison for a few years. I've always had an intense longing for a relationship with my dad and we connected through myspace back when I was about 12. I ended up meeting him and we talked over the phone or on the internet ever since. I love him. My dad died in march very suddenly. He was in a car accident, I guess he lost control of his car and it flipped over into a ditch. I didn't find out until a week later. He hadn't been responding to my facebook messages and so I googled his name for some reason. I found the online news article detailing his car accident. I have so many conflicting emotions but I am mostly just depressed. I long to hug him and make sure he knows that I love him. I long for him so much I've spent like 150 dollars calling psychic mediums. I don't even know what I believe and if I am religious or not, I'm just desperate. At the same time I'm somehow still angry I guess because of his absence. The loneliness is killing me. When he was alive I was able to call him about my problems or just to catch up. I just want to call him. I keep thinking about the pain he was probably in. After he was discovered they took him to the hospital and he died later that night. I just imagine him laying in a ditch and I feel terrible. I wish there was something I could have done. He was all alone in pain. I feel so empty....also angry because no one on my dads side of the family messaged me or tried to get in contact with me about what happened, I had to read all the details from an article. And I won't be invited to my own dads funeral because no one in his family knows me ( but they know of me) :'(
  8. I don't even know where to begin. I lost my mom 8 months ago. She was 70 years old and she had COPD. I feel as though I am still in a fog. I always found myself in denial of how sick she really was. When she would tell me that she didn't feel good I would roll my eyes or say it's because she needs to get out of the house. Or I would blame it on the weather. I would even blame all of the medication she was on. I would come up with any way to excuse it all away. I should have been more understanding. I just wanted her to be better. I didn't want to accept that she was really sick. If I had it to do over I would have just held her and pampered her. After a bad COPD related illness in Dec of 2013 things became really bad. She spent more time in the hospital than out. The time spent in the hospital was filled with so many ups and downs. ICU, emergency surgeries, being moved to an acute care center then back to the ER and ICU to Palliative care. We would have hope one minute and then be crushed the next. I stayed by her side the entire time. Thanks to hospital WIFI I was able to work from her room and the bedside table became my new desk. She went into the hospital in March and did not make it back home. She came to my house through Hospice on Friday June 13. She passed away on Monday June 16, 2014. I was able to pray over her, pamper her and play her favorite gospel hymns. It was the greatest honor to be able to care for her in her final days. My parents celebrated their 54th anniversary New Years Day 2014. Which was also the 9 year anniversary of my brother's death. He died of AIDS and he suffered a very long slow death. My mother cared for him in her home. Watching her own son die a little each day for over a year. Having 2 children of my own I can't even imagine how excruciatingly painful that must have been. We were very close and his death was the hardest thing I had experienced in my life...until now. Right after my mom died I felt as if I was beginning to suffer the same symptoms that she had. I thought that because I refused to accept how she felt all those years now Karma will make sure that I feel it first hand. I told my husband and he said I was being ridiculous. It felt very real to me. I later read an article that this is sometimes a symptom of grief. Two months after her death while eating breakfast, out of the blue, a rush came over me. I became very light headed. My heart began to pound out of my chest. I was extremely dizzy and I couldn't breathe. My entire body was trembling and I honestly thought I was dying. I took my blood pressure it was 186/112. That confirmed it. I was having a heart attack. My husband took me to the ER and it turned out to be an anxiety/panic attack. I had never experienced anything like that in my life! They thought it may have been caused by my thyroid being out of balance. After plenty of follow up visits with my Dr. and lab work it was determined that I am in perfect health. I have since also found that anxiety is a symptom of grief. Although I have learned to control them through breathing and self talk I still live in fear of the attacks. I feel that it's never the right time or place to cry so I have mastered the art of holding it in. I have had to help my dad deal with his loss. He was totally dependent on my mom. He is healthy but they come from the generation of the wife being the homemaker. He had never even made a sandwich or stepped foot in a grocery store. I have had to take on 2 households not to mention two budgets and my full time job. My dad has come along way over the past 8 months with cooking, cleaning and shopping. He also began seeing another woman within the first 6 weeks of my mom's death which is a whole other story and I'm sure I have already exceeded the post limit. I'll just say that I was NOT ready for that! My stomach feels like it is in shreds and I have lost a lot of weight due to a nervous stomach and lack of appetite. I feel so exhausted all the time. I want to go to bed and stay there. Life is too much to handle. I am now having to double check all of my work because my brain is mush. I feel like I'm losing it. Although I have read some of the same words in other post I can't help but think no one knows how I feel. I never expected these physical symptoms. Maybe my brothers death caused the final decline of my mom's health and her death will be the death of me. It's been 8 months. I know that grief takes time. I know I will never be the same. Everything I read says this is normal. I'm also beginning to have memories of how I grieved for my brother and even my grandmother. My mom's mom died 5 years after my brother. I am sorry that I have rambled on but I feel like this process has become more about how I feel physically and mentally instead of being able to genuinely grieve and miss my mom. Thank you to anyone who took the time to read this and thank you for allowing me to ramble on here.
  9. To everyone that has lost a beloved pet, I am sorry. To everyone experiencing this grief during the holiday season and/or another special occasion, I am sorry. It is tremendous to get through such thoughts and emotions and move forward. Never did I appreciate this before losing Sir Greysby to pancreatitis on November 25th, 2014 after a 30-day fight wherein he tried to live and my husband and I tried to help him win the battle. Never have I gone through such - let alone his passing 2 days before hosting Thanksgiving at my house, which I did do in an almost an out-of-body manner and excusing myself to go cry silent away from the guests. 3 weeks and 2 days later, I am healing, but have moments wherein I feel sucker-punched in my gut once more and I let-out primordial cries of anguish. Why? What could I have done differently? Why didn't I recognize the 2 earliest behavioral changes in him as signs he was becoming ill? Would those 4-5 weeks have made a difference in his ability to recover before I took him to the Vet? What have I done to work through and move past such grief? I downloaded 4 e-books to read on pets going to heaven and the grieving process. I learned that my grief and guilt are very "normal," although I have felt anything but normal. I created a beautiful photo journal book of him - from the days he was a stray and we took him in and up through the day of his departure from this life. I kept a swatch of his hair and his foot-print and his collar with the heart-shaped tags. His remains were cremated and placed in a nice oak urn that displays a picture of him making "soft eyes" at me on his last day here. I have gone to a Christian psychologist twice to help me process the void. The void is not as huge now, but the first week after he left, my stomach hurt, I cried a lot, and I did not know what to do with the spare time that Sir Greysby use to fill-up when he was well, but especially during the last week of his life. I had gone into a panic mode in trying to get him to eat all forms of chicken and/or treats ... anything! I woke-up in the middle of many nights wondering if he had passed away and got up to check on him. When he lapped his ice-cold water, I was so thankful and hopeful. But then, the battle ended. My momentum was still going forward and wanting to help him, but he was no longer here. I've played back the video, from the last morning of his being with me, several times. He loved my ankles and feet, then sat in front of his food without touching it once again ... after 3-days of his not doing so. He had come full circle. This is what had caused me to take him to the Vet to begin with ... he did not eat his favorite warmed, soft cat food for 3-days. The Vet placed him on steroids and an antibiotic, and for several weeks, it seemed he might have a fighting chance. Sir Greysby never resumed eating his food at the level he had done before falling ill, but at least he nibbled. The fact was that he was anorexic and continued to lose weight during those last 30-days of his life. 3-days before his departure, my husband and I decorated the living-room for the holiday season. Our minds told us that he would not make it, but our hearts hoped he would. We played Christmas carols for him, took a photo of him, and struggled with thinking it might be his last holiday season with us. Barely have I been able to hear any Christmas music since then. However, I do not regret giving Sir Greysby one-last Christmas with us, and I know that with time, I will smile and feel good about those memories. My other cats and their adjusting to his not being here has been awkward. The routines changed for them, too. Sir Greysby ruled our home during his 2-1/2 year stay with us. :-) However, I am adapting to their new routines and am spending more time loving and appreciating them. They have had numerous pictures taken of them in their favorite areas of the house, at play and at rest. Now, I fully comprehend they are my family that love me unconditionally. There are "those" people who are thoughtless for whatever reasons. I have chosen not to be rude to them in return, but rather to ignore them and move through my grieving process as I see fit. I know that one-day I will feel better. It is a process and a journey. I will always thank my God of understanding for allowing this beautiful soul to grace our home with the last 2-1/2 years of his life. We learned so much from him and I know that Sir Greysby is in a much better, heavenly place that affords him happiness and peace. May your soul find peace and comfort during this time and know that this lady is praying for your wellness and healing, too.
  10. Hi, I recently joined this very helpful board, and responded to Melissa's post. Then Marty T responded to my post in that thread, and I wanted to reply, but I did not want to do so on Melissa's thread, as she deserves her space. I cannot re-write the story, it will hurt too much. So, although it is a bit out of context, I am pasting my first post, here, along with Marty T's response to me. Then I will "reply" to it here. ------------------------ Melissa, I'm reading your posts, and crying. My dog was Lila. A few months ago, something bad happened. Someone, or something, took her. We found her out on the highway just before dawn. We took her body home and buried her in the backyard. I carved her name in stone and got a little statue of an angel holding a puppy. I know that Lila is with the angels (and I do not mean that metaphorically) and that she is fine now. But I am not. It has been months, but my husband and I still cry sometimes...weep, not sniffles. Our kids have troubles with losing her, and our family therapists says that they won't even hit the hard part, until we adults get a handle on it. The kids want a new dog, and I do too, but I can't consider it because I am too scared. I know that women lose husbands, and marry again, and are happy with that choice, so I ask myself why I can't get another dog. We got Lila a year before I was in a car accident. She was with me through years of healing. Long days when kids and husband were at school and work, and Lila went with me everywhere. She would go in the car with us, but she didn't like walks, because she wanted to just be at home. I read a quote last week, that parents of teenagers should have a dog, because then there was always someone who was happy you were home. I laughed. I'm not depressed all the time. And again, I thought about getting another dog. Another little black poodle. It is the only dog I would ever get, just like you got Lola, exactly what you knew you wanted. But it scares me to consider it. Something bad happened to Lila, and there was nothing I could do--with a new dog, I imagine I would always be afraid something bad would happen. Lila was 8 when she was killed. Not at all old for a miniature poodle, but I know she was getting sick or something, because she was slowing down in significant ways. I try to tell myself that her death was timely, and saved her from living with what would surely have become a low quality of life. But all considered, I have to admit that it is not Lila that I am worried about. It is me. And my family. I've experienced losses in my lifetime (I'm nearly 50), and some have been very hard. But I think losing Lila this way, this is the hardest thing. After she died, neighbors stopped by to offer their condolences. One even wrote a card. Like Lola, there was just something very special about our dog. Our dogs were our saving angels, and we don't know how to live without them. I wish I had some kind of special healing advice for you, so you could feel better. All I can offer, is that you are not alone in how much you needed your dog, and how much it hurts that she is gone. They saved us when we needed saving, and then left us on our own. I know I should be glad she was in my life, and move on, but I haven't yet figured out how. Blessings, Shoe #6 MartyT Counselor Posted 27 November 2012 - 06:48 AM Melissa and Shoe, my heart hurts for both of you as I read your sad stories about Lola and Lila, and I am so sorry you’re each hurting so badly. The only way I know to deal with this sort of pain is to let yourselves experience it fully, without trying to suppress it or push it away. Find some ways to express it (including the sharing you are doing here, in this safe place, among fellow animal lovers). With regard to getting another dog, Shoe, I truly do appreciate your struggle. I will share with you that after my cockapoo Muffin was struck by a car and later euthanized, it took me ten years before I was ready and willing to let another dog into my home and into my heart. Fortunately for me, at the time this happened, my sons were grown and out of the nest, and my husband felt the same way I did about being "dog-less" for that length of time. But everyone is different in this regard, and I think it's important to recognize and allow for those differences, especially within your own family. Is there any room for compromise here? What would happen if you simply accept the fact that you're not ready for another pup without judging yourself for feeling that way, but if your kids feel differently about it, you could agree to let THEM get another dog or puppy -- with the understanding that you are allowed to feel your feelings without judgment, even to the extent that you'll have little or nothing to do with the new pup, if that's how you need to play it? Then see how it goes? Only you know if that approach would work in your family, but it seems to me that if everyone is open and honest with one another in this situation, there ought to be a solution here that would meet everyone's needs, including your own. For what it's worth, when my Muffin died I was shattered and absolutely heart-broken. I KNEW I could never, ever love another dog the way that I loved him. But after those ten years went by, we did get another dog, a Tibetan terrier named Beringer ~ and I must tell you that both my husband and I loved this dog more than we've ever loved another creature. We had him for fifteen glorious years of unconditional loving, and I could write a book about how much this dog meant to both of us. (See Saying Goodbye to Beringer.) When you are by nature an animal lover and you lose the animal you love more than anything, I truly do believe that your heart is big enough to accommodate another ~ I have learned that the hard way, through my own experience. Animals like cats and dogs just have a way of wiggling their way into our hearts, probably because they are so innocent, so in the moment, so willing to give us that brand of unconditional love that we will never get from another human being. But I also think you have to be ready, and willing, and open enough to let it happen. Only you will know when it is time ~ and there is nothing wrong with that. I just think that in a family, it's important to make room for the feelings of other members, and we can't expect everyone to feel the same way we do about important matters such as this. That's why I encourage you to consider how you might reach a compromise with your husband and kids about their wanting to get another dog . . . Meanwhile, I hope that both of you know you are not alone in your sorrow, because here we do understand and honor the magical relationship that exists between animals and their people, and you have our deepest sympathy. ♥ Marty Tousley, CNS-BC, FT, DCC Bereavement Counselor Hospice of the Valley Mail to: tousleym@aol.com Read Marty Tousley's Bio Here
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