Losing A Buddy: Pets

I knew that the passing of my 19 yr old dog was imminent. I braced for it, probably coming to terms with it much earlier than most would have. When I got my cat Stella, I figured he would be such a support. And he was…for 3 months and then he, too, died.

There are things that I still cannot get used to, and I never realized how hard it truly would be. Not just normal routines now broken, such as daily feedings and walks. Or calling out for them randomly just to hear their paws against the floors coming out towards you. Or even hearing their name out loud, because now, there isn’t any of that either. But, for instance, I notice that I now leave a pile of clothes at the foot of my bed, something I’ve never done before. You could always find Stella there at the very end of every night until the moment he felt me stir awake in the morning. It’s a weird feeling not feeling his big, warm body there against my toes when I’m stretching out. I can only expect that is the very reason why I’ve now been randomly leaving piles of whatever where he once laid.

I now always see movements in my peripheral where I felt like my dog once walked. It’s almost like I see a furry, white, blurry ball of cotton moving around. I look, and for a split second, I see her staring up at me, head cocked to the side, wondering who knows what. But that’s a mirage. She’s not there, nor will she be. It’s like my mind and body are still catching up to what my heart has come to already accept.

I knew that losing a pet would be hard. Losing both was soul crushing. Sometimes life feels a little empty, as if I no longer have a real purpose to be stable anymore. I’ve been filling up my time with a bit more of me time, which falls in alignment with winter and hibernation season. I’ve gotten to go on a couple extra little adventures and have also done a bit of splurging on myself. I hadn’t realized how much money it took raising my babies. Yet, none of that is comforting in moments when I wish so bad they were back here and annoying the shit out of me. Stella always bumping his fuzzy, soft-ball sized head against my hand any time I wrote. Melita barking at me to toss her the toy she only brought halfway towards me.

People ask me all the time, “Am I ready for another dose of pawppy love??” Sure. There’s nothing like it. But I’m not searching. I have a feeling my next four legged best bud is going to find me, so in the mean time, I’m just here hanging out, getting used to the new norm until it no longer is. It is obvious that I will never forget my two little beanies and that the love I hold for them will live in me forever. There’s talk about a rainbow bridge at the end of this short journey, and that’s where we reunite with all of those we love who have also met the end of their journey, that’s including our beloved pets. Not that I’m rushing, but I look forward to the day I get to bury my face in theirs, enjoying their company once again.

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The Final Act

Panic attacks. I used to get them periodically and what always triggered them, it was never anything else, were thoughts of death. I guess that’s what happens when at a young age you begin to lose people.

The attacks would always start with a small thought, something innocent like seeing roadkill, or hearing a piece of news on the radio about some celebrity’s passing. I would start to think about how they’re no longer able to soak up the day’s sunrays, or ever appreciate what it feels like when a spring’s breeze kisses your face. I’d begin to think about how their loved ones somewhere out there in the world would be heartbroken for what it would feel like a lifetime to come. The thoughts would then trickle into my personal life. What if I lose my mother?… or my sister? What if right now someone crashes into me, T-boned, and POOF! Lights out?

THAT’S when the panic would slowly slither in.

It would start with a slight flicker of the pulse in my neck. It felt like a double click; trigger being pulled. My throat would feel constricted by only a little at first, making it an actual thought to swallow instead of the instinct that it is. My hands would begin to get clammy and would ball up in anticipation of what was to come, and a cold sweat would soon then follow. Thoughts all the while tumbling around my mind, detailing the sudden death, a death that hasn’t happened yet.

This went on for a number of years at times being almost debilitating, but with the help of things like meditation and such, I slowly was able to control these attacks. Instead of having such a fear of what is death, I in turn decided to change my mindset and learned to adapt a healthy respect for it. Regardless of the respect, there are times in which I simply do get caught off guard by what is the final act in this play called Life. Especially when someone so amazing suddenly goes.

It makes no difference the way in which a loved one passes, it’s never easy. I do find it excruciatingly difficult to grasp when someone who is young and full of life dies without one ever seeing it coming. I’ve lost many people in my life this way, more than half of them being when I was still too young to fully understand the permanence of what was happening. Recently however, the ones in my life that passed have really taken me back, almost to those moments of panic because now I do understand the permanence of it, as well as the randomness. I see and logically comprehend that amazingly good hearted people, wise souls that shine a light onto this sometimes dark and violent world, aren’t immune to being taken early. Emotionally I cannot understand it. My heart doesn’t compute why the good ones go so young and as I get older, I don’t think it ever will.

No matter how hard I try to put words to how I feel about my friend’s recent passing I simply cannot. When I tell you that this world lost an amazing person, I cannot describe to you how much I seriously I mean it. An intelligent, compassionate soul who truly did make a positive impact on this world, because anyone who came across him would forever be changed in their most positive of ways. To extinguish that torch was to make this place just a little darker, but if you believe in heaven, it just got a heck of a lot brighter.

However sad and painful, I still try to find the silver lining. I guess it goes to say that I haven’t really lost them, but if anything I now have quite a crew waiting for me to get back. I am in no rush, but I do find comfort in that. Until then, all can really do is clichély live my life in tribute to them and seize the chances and opportunities, living for those who could not.