Loss of a Loved One

When I posted the note on Bear, my eyes were drawn to the end of the post and it brought on tears. Not those beautiful, movie screen tears, the award-winning tears - no, these were uglier. These were the tears that leave your mouth dry, the ones that make you feel like you're choking and they make your skin tingle with heat and displeasure. Big, thick, silent tears, that fell too quickly, too eagerly, and too sadly to do anything but hurt. The kind that make your heart beat just a little harder as its squeezed by pain.

Of course, about this time, Jerry tells me he's going to sleep but before he can say good night I ask him if I can tell him something first and he says of course. So I let him know what I'm feeling. That loss, that pain, that complete and utter sadness. His response is uncertainity at what to say and when I tell him I don't care, I just can't stand the silence, he does something silly - he says 'Hi. You're cute.' That forced a laugh out of me and cause my tightness to ease a little even though the tears still threaten. I tell him so and he says good, because he wants me to enjoy him. I do enjoy him, immensely. But I told him sometimes there's just something stronger than love and its grief and loss - the good news is that they don't last as long as love. He said that that's good and that he wishes he could make me feel better. Then he reminded me of his need to sleep and reminded me, 'Get tomorrow done and we have the weekend. So something to look forward to.' I thanked him for the reminder and we bid each other sweetly goodnight.

I know part of the reason for my weeping is because I didn't help take care of bear as I should have at times. My family and I have a temper and sometimes, as her hips became worse, she would do things that would absolutely just tip one of us over the edge. We never beat or mistreat our animals but we do get frustrated. Sometimes she couldn't hold it anymore and we would come home to find the floor smeared with poop and her backside covered in it as well. Of course, as intelligent as she was, she was ashamed and there wasn't much she could do about it but if we had tried to hurry home or it had happened frequently, even when we were home at the house, we just got angry. Harsh words were spoken to one of the sweetest, most loving dogs I have ever known and I deeply regret that more than I can possibly express. And worse is when she would have to go outside and suddenly her hips would slide and she would fall. More roughly than we should have, I know a few times when it was particularly cold or particularly late at night or particularly early, when we had had to deal with one mess or another or she had driven us crazy with whining, we righted her with a little more force than necessary and I know that didn't help her pain. And I know she didn't understand why in those moments we were being mean to her and I wish she could understand that pain I'm feeling now from it.

I know, if she were a human, she would forgive me, saying she understood but it still doesn't make it right. Of all the creatures on this green earth I should have had the patience with (and I'm sure people, like my mother, can agree), it should have been her. We should have treated her more kindly. I wept while I held her as she whined and was unable to move. I wept as my parents came inside, wept as I looked at my mother, and wept harder as they left. It's been two years now and that pain is as fresh and more potent as it was then. Perhaps recent events have just got my hormones going or perhaps the loss of more loved ones has made the pain of previous losses worse... all I know is that I will not sleep easy tonight and my pillow will likely be wet with tears.