MacKenzie and her siblings, born feral around Sept 2002, hailed from a local animal services center. Their fate was slim and I decided to take the little family home to tame them and find them homes. MacKenzie was the first of her siblings who tamed and from that first step towards me, she and I were BFFs. Additionally, she started exhibiting many behaviors and mannerisms specific to my cat, Dominoe, who went to heaven in 2000. She even looked like Dominoe. For the last almost 12 years, I had the pleasure and honor to have both my girls by my side.

I lost my beloved MacKenzie, Friday evening, 11 July 2014, right after getting her home from gallbladder removal surgery that Thursday, 10 July. Her health had been failing for about a year and a half. Despite a period of reprieve in 2013, weight loss resumed late last year – early this year, and supportive therapies were having little success. She became very thin again, struggling with in appetence, and generally not participating in life. For the last few months, she moped around the house and mostly slept deep under the bed. To encourage her to eat, I would give her valium and canned food, including AD, to entice her to eat. She would rarely eat without the Valium. The first ultra sound in April 2013, showed a slight shadow in her gallbladder. This past June, the shadow was definitive, thus indicative of a stone or stones. As she was asymptomatic except for this test result, my vet and I decided to resume supportive therapies in March. It was becoming more and more difficult to medicate her. She was not happy; there was a haunting sadness in her eyes. I had not seen her sleep in her favorite spots for months. She remained in a depressed and wasted state.

Supported by my vet, I made the difficult decision for MacKenzie to have this surgery, hoping to restore her health while her vital signs and chemistry results were still good. She championed through the surgery and was recovering well. The gallbladder was removed; the surgeon found a stone the size of a pea (the gallbladder in a cat is only the size of a pecan). When I went to pick her up Friday afternoon, she felt very cold. Her temperature had dropped 5 degrees in about 4 hours, which was the last time her temperature was checked. She was transitioning from IV fluid support to tube feeding and fluids through her feeding tube. Not only was she very cold to the touch when I first saw her, she was weak and unable to walk. I sat with her wrapped in blankets and heating pads for an hour. Her temperature was up by a degree, all vital signs were good. She was still weak and not able to walk without stumbling, but the vet thought she was OK to go home given all the other positive vital signs.

Once home, I settled her in my upstairs bathroom, where I was going to rehabilitate her in the company of a little kitten, Ariel, who is also recovering from trauma. Within an hour MacKenzie was gone. The last time I checked on her, I shifted her position to get her comfortable as I noticed her breathing was a bit raspy. She stretched and took one more breath and was gone. The agony I felt was indescribable.

I have been involved in animal rescue for many years and have a large, mostly aging, multi-species animal household. Unfortunately, loss is a very real and frequent part of my life. Loss is never easy. Some loss is better to process than others; MacKenzie makes 10 for just this year. Losing MacKenzie is as heart wrenching as losing my Molly this past Jan. In many ways, she is my worst loss ever. My heart is broken and my brain is screaming to understand. An autopsy revealed an ailing heart. It is possible she had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM) and perhaps her heart couldn’t process a blood clot or some residual stress from the surgery/anesthesia. Despite the fact that she championed through the surgery, something happened to cause the sudden death. Biopsy were submitted and provided no answers as to cause of death. They showed secondary organ issues from the malfunctioning gallbladder. Her pancreas was not well, her small intestine was inflamed and infected, her lymph nodes working over time, she was anemic from chronic disease... It has been an insane exercise to try and find answers and meaning while my own heart is barely beating. My will to live is only alive as many at home still depend on me.

I have read and re-read all of the things I have gathered about dealing with loss over the years. I have researched further and found this site and read extensively on it. My heart only aches more, and I now also feel the pain from everyone else.

Since losing MacKenzie, I have been in a silent, agonizing scream, seemingly frozen for all time. It has been only two weeks. I feel in some respects she has been gone forever for all the energy I have expended in cycling endlessly through blame, guilt, shame, anger. Mostly, just the gut-wrenching agony I felt when she slipped away as I tried to ease her position. Her final breath. My silent scream in slow motion. Assaults from very dark places. The futile attempts to revive her... OMG...

I see that painting, The Scream, like a movie reel stuck on one frame. I can't breathe.

Dear Monique.

So very sorry for your loss. Losing a pet is as you said an undescribable agony. We've all been there on this site - unfortunately and it never gets easier. Infact I think each one gets harder, because I've found myself clinging to them harder and harder each time.

You did all you could and I know it doesn't help to say this, but beating yourself up isn't going to accomplish anything. It'll take time. You'll learn to live with this loss. I have (I think). I miss my babies everyday as much as the day they left me. That will never change. And I will love them more than I did yesterday. All I hope for is that when my time comes I will be with them for all eternity (no, I'm not religious, but I need to believe that there is something after this life).

Please be kind to yourself. This is a great website. I found it a week or so before we had to make the decision to let Hunny go and that was one of the most awful times of my life. I couldn't stop crying. I am not very good at this, but there are many people here who offer great support and know exactly what to say.

That last breath (scream) you mention - I've heard that. It's very haunting. I've also watched the life fade from my Lily's eyes. That I have to say was the very worst of everything I've been through.

Anyway, I cannot go into the loss of Lily six years ago. That one still hurts like it just happened.

Please take care.

Lynette.

Hi, Monique, please permit me to add my sincerest sympathies in the physical loss of your beloved MacKenzie. Losing a companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we are blessed with the privilege of their company. As heartbreaking as it is, your beloved MacKenzie transitioned home to the angels in the place she loves the most - - her home surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells familiar to her, and the presence of her loving Forever Mom.

Each of our companions have their own special place in our hearts, yet the grief adjustment journey for some physical losses can be harder than others. This doesn't mean we love some companions more than others - - or that our "connection" with some of them is less important. It simply means that some bonds with our companions - - similar to some bonds we have with human family members and friends - - are uniquely special.

Monique, one of the many emotions EACH of us experience during the grief journey is guilt / remorse, and it is one of the hardest emotions to reconcile because it comes from looking back and trying to reconcile all the things that happened that didn't make sense at the time they were occurring, and all the whys, what if's, and if only's that haunt our hearts and minds at a time when we are emotionally vulnerable. As with human medicine, sometimes an autopsy can pose more questions than provide answers, yet the clues are still there in the evidence letting you know that your beloved MacKenzie's body was very fragile from the many medical challenges that were taking a serious toll.

As our forum correspondent Lynette has already so compassionately shared with you, so I affirm her words of comfort: You did everything in your power to give your beloved MacKenzie a happy, healthy earthly journey. I hope someday you will be able to find peace in your heart that your beloved MacKenzie knows you love her, and she is forever blessed to have you for her Forever Mom.

Although this grief journey is one of the most painful experiences you will know on this side of eternity, there is one thing that will never change: the love bond you and your beloved MacKenzie share. Love is eternal - - it is not restricted to the physical laws of time and space. Your beloved MacKenzie's sweet Living Spirit continues to share your earthly journey as she always has and always will, for she is always and forever a part of your heart and memories - - she is always and forever a heartbeat close to you.

I know all too well from first hand experience that when our hearts are entrenched in deep grief there are no adequate words in any language that can soothe the searing pain of sorrow. Still I hope the words I share with you will offer you some measure of comfort, support, encouragement, and hope as you travel your grief adjustment journey.

Thank you so much for honoring us in sharing your beloved MacKenzie with us, and this wonderful picture of your beautiful girl. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Monique, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Lynette,

Thank you so very much for you kindness and attentiveness to my loss. When I first found this site, I ran into your post about Hunny. The community here is so supportive. There is a commonality - we all understand and feel the pain.

There is a blog I refer to often: http://christinekane.com/on-losing-a-belov...p.vy43XCSm.dpbs. I found it when I lost my Molly this past Jan. Mini-doxie, infection, largely unexplained. Eating and happy and vocal Friday night. Gone, just like that by Monday afternoon. My little soul peep. Another silent scream. The scream continues, just quieter. It always hovers.

This blog post by Christine Kane is the singularly most succinct and on-point writing about loss I have ever read. I have also read each and every comment and visit often. The comments, stories of those who have lost, are hurting, and are grieving deeply, have helped me as much as the blog. Maybe even more, as it helps me to know I'm not alone. And it's OK to grieve deeply over the loss of a furred or feathered child. People who do not have a profound love for animals just Do.Not.Understand.

I never really get over a loss. It just kind of simmers forever. People have said that in time you remember the good times and move on. I do remember the good times, and then always sadness, knowing that the physical presence I also fell in love with, is... gone.

Healing travels to you. XO

Hi Monique.

I can totally relate to what you are saying about remembering the good times and then the sad shows up. Sometimes, I can push that sadness away, but other times, like last night on my way home, the tears fell. And that heartbreak is just as fresh as it first was.

I will have to check out the blog you spoke of.

I hope today you are feeling a little better. I know how hard it is to go on with life. I wish I could just turn back time so many times. There would be things I would very definitely do differently. I would hug a lot more. I would kiss them a lot more. I must drive my pups crazy with the constant hugging and kissing. But in all honestly, I do it because I am so afraid of losing them. I've lost a few pets over the years, but losing Lily was definitely one of the hardest and the one that put life in to perspective for me. And I must admit I think I sank into a depression after losing her. Often, when I'm hugging and kissing them all good night, I send a kiss and a hug up to them.

Anyway, better go. Please take care.

Lynette.

Thank you so very much for your personalized note of heartfelt wisdoms, insight, and support. I noticed from reading through this site when I first found it, that you take the time to respond to every entry about loss. How wonderful is that!

I am slowly rejoining the living. Yesterday I spent several hours on the phone with my Reiki and energy healer friend, Kristine. I "met" her years ago through animal rescue channels, as she is highly respected by animal rescuers. She helped me with my cat, Carmen, in 2011, when she was near death from intestinal cancer. Kristine tapped into MacKenzie and we had a profoundly insightful and healing conversation about MacKenzie, understanding how animals deal with life on earth and its challenges, coping with loss and life on earth. As I'm transitioning through all the stages of grief, I have been particularly struck by the anger I have felt. Never to this level. Seething, at times, towards the vet, the surgeon, the so-called friends I have locally who have not been there for me… The MacKenzie trial has opened up my eyes about veterinary medicine, the capitalizing on pet owner’s desperations to prolong the lives of their dear animal companions and the experimentation taking place behind the scenes (recall all the biopsies taken that I did not authorize). I am sending out forgiveness and closing the door on my anger. It has served its purpose.

The very best news was to confirm that MacKenzie is doing well, understands that I was trying to help her, and, when the time is right, she will return as a kitten with no congenital issues. I learned through Kristine that the surgery was the wrong decision, that the health issues she had been dealing with, including her heart, precluded that the surgery would fail, even at first diagnosis in early 2013. My initial response was that I wished I had contacted Kristine before the surgery. After giving this pause and thought, I am starting to accept how she passed and that it was for the best. Without the surgery, she would have continued to fail and I would have watched her waste away further. I would have had to make the painful decision to help her pass, watch her die at home, or find her already dead. I am thankful I was spared these alternatives. MacKenzie did wait for me and she was thankful to still be able to pass at home.

I will be attending a workshop Kristine offers every September, during which she helps participants restart and rebuild their cosmic energies. I will rebuild my energies and my world so that the gray filter that has covered things literally and figuratively for long, will be lifted.

In addition to support from this site, my friend, Lois, has been there for me every step of the way, from when I was agonizing over MacKenzie's failing health, the decision to have the surgery, and everything after that. She has listened to me patiently as I have talked for hours about every possible aspect of this passing, and then offered her insights, experiences, and support. I can't thank her enough for that. The same goes for my sister-in-law, Tricia. Neither live nearby, but their efforts to be there for me bridged the physical distance challenge.

Hi Lynette,

Thank you for being on this site and returning to offer further support. I just responded to moon-beam’s heartfelt note to me. Please read this and see if this offers you any comfort. I am so sorry you are still hurting so from losing your sweet Lily. Continue to send hugs and kisses to those you have lost.

I will gladly share more information from my conversation with Kristine. It has helped me greatly and I’m seeing the light at the end of my grief tunnel. I think it will help you understand how animals handle their station here on earth. I remember Kristine telling me all of this when my sweet little karamba, Carmen, was dying. I just didn’t believe it at the time. I do now. It is helping me heal and I pray that the silent screams I have been carrying with me for so many who have passed, will finally stop.

((((hugs))))

Hi, Monique, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing. Please let me try to reassure you that what you are going through is very normal deep grief - - very painful both emotionally and physically, yes, - - still very normal.

I am so very glad you are having support and comfort from some of the people in your life. Although clinical professionals recognize that the grief journey for the physical loss of a beloved companion is the same as for a human family member or friend, sadly our society in general, and sometimes the people who are closest to us emotionally and geographically, do not. This is one of the many reasons why this wonderful forum was developed to be a safe place where we can come to share what is in our hearts and on our minds with those who truly do understand what we are going through. Please know we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us.

Monique, from first hand experience I truly do understand how you have agonized over the events of what happend with your beloved MacKenzie treatment-wise. I went through a similar experience with my beloved number one kitty son Eli several years ago when he was diagnosed with end stage Lymphoma in 2006. That experience taught me many things that saw me through the diagnosis of end stage Fibrosarcoma of my beloved beautiful kitty Abbygayle in 2009. The approach to her treatment was significantly different which included having a more compassionate veterinary care provider overseeing her care. As with human medicine, the same practical advice applies to veterinary medicine: Just because a procedure CAN be done does not mean that it is appropriate for it to be done. There comes a point in time when "quality" of life is the primary focus rather than "quantity" of earthly existence. Coming to this understanding when our hearts are longing for our companions to be restored to good health is not an easy journey. You, Monique, did everything in your power to give your beloved MacKenzie a happy, healthy earthly journey with the information and resources you had at any given time. I'm so very glad your friend Kristine has been able to help you find some peace in your heart.

Scientifc studies prove that every living being has an "energy" and every member of the "unit" benefits from the "energy" provided by each individual member. When a member of the unit is no longer present - - for whatever reason - - the remaining members go through a period of "re-establishing" the "unit" and the accompanying "energy". During this time it can also feel like the structure of the house is also grieving the physical loss of the "unit" member. I'm glad your friend Kristine offers classes that will help you, and others, find a way to refresh your "energy".

I hope today is treating you kindly, Monique, and that you will have a peaceful evening blessed with your beloved MacKenzie's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thank you, moon_beam, for being there for so, so many. I am finding healing in trying to help others. The pain people feel is so very intense. I feel this pain empathically. I hope I can help others. There is light at the end of the tunnel. I'm praying the path I'm on will "silence" the agonizing screams I hear and feel from my many losses.

Thank you for being there!

Hi, Monique, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. It is written that in helping others, comforting others, we too find help and comfort in return. We are blessed to have you here with us, and hope you are finding comfort, support, encouragement, and hope from each of us as you travel your grief adjustment journey.

I hope today is treating you kindly, Monique, and that you will have a peaceful evening blessed with your beloved MacKenzie's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thank you for your continued care and concern. I'm telling everyone about this site. It is amazing. I've never found a forum where the administrator and moderator are so active. There is a sense of community here. Genuine people who need help and try to help others. A commonality despite worlds of differences.

I realize in what I have written to others how far I have come in my journey. I still get deep pangs of pain and a myriad of other explosively negative feelings. But not as often, and when I do, I force myself to steer into a positive direction. I don't dwell on the last vision of MacKenzie. Instead, I see her in a basket, as in the pic I posted here, far off in the distance. The rest of the picture, i.e., the surroundings and such, are blurred out. It's all kind of hazy and cloudy gray beyond her image and the basket. The key here is that the picture has no trauma or pain in it whatsoever. MacKenzie is happy and healthy in the picture, her eyes clear, bright and full of love and understanding.

I'm still haunted by the fact that she spent her last night on earth in a steel holding area at the vet. I push this away as fast as I can and remind myself that she did have blankets from home, that she was in no pain as she was on IV pain meds, and that her ensuing exit from this world was quick and peaceful. The alternatives, as I've mentioned in my previous posts, are too much to bear, the potential for having to make the heart-wrenching decision to have the vet help her to heaven, or seeing her waste away and collapse at home, or finding her passed away somewhere before I could get to her... So I'm starting to accept that this was the best way for her to go.

And so the negotiations between the &%^ytical and emotional sides of my brain continue.

Hi, Monique, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. As you may know, clincial studies prove that when a traumatic event is experienced - - and clinical professionals recognize that the physical loss of a beloved companion qualifies as a traumatic event - - that the event of the trauma are imprinted on the brain and is replayed like a video stuck in that one place - - like viewing clips of a disaster event that are constantly played and replayed on the news.

Several years ago I was a victim of an event that permanently changed my life physically, emotionally, and spiritually. With the help of a very compassionate and qualified professional counselor he helped me with techniques that would significantly reduce the trauma of the flashbacks. The primary technique he helped me acquire is exactly the one in which you are using as you share with us: "I still get deep pangs of pain and a myriad of other explosively negative feelings. But not as often, and when I do, I force myself to steer into a positive direction. I don't dwell on the last vision of MacKenzie. Instead, I see her in a basket, as in the pic I posted here, far off in the distance. . . . The key here is that the picture has no trauma or pain in it whatsoever. MacKenzie is happy and healthy in the picture, her eyes clear, bright and full of love and understanding." This is how your beloved MacKenzie wants you to remember her, Monique. It does take a concerted effort to do the technique, particularly when the trauma images are highly painful, but it does eventually work, and I'm very glad you are being able to find success using this technique.

Unfortunately the "analysis negotiations" are a normal part of this grief adjustment journey, and equally unfortunately they can only be navigated one day at a time, sometimes one moment at a time, in your own way and in your own time. But please know we are here for you, with you, and beside you to share the not so bad days, the not so good days, and the days when your heart may still feel the excruciating pain of deep sorrow for as long and as often as you need us.

I hope today is treating you kindly, Monique, and that you will have a peaceful evening blessed with your beloved MacKenzie's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

Thank you, moon_beam, for your on point response. Your timing is also very healing, as today I had a major set back. I felt it coming. The third anniversary of MacKenzie's passing, 7pm, Friday, 11 July. ... *Reflective, painful pause* ...

...

Last week my friends, Deb and Paul, invited me over for this evening. I thought I was ready. I'm not. Saturdays are very busy days for me as that is when I have to do major habitat cleaning (birds, guinea pigs, rabbits...). I woke up in anxiety and panic, did manage to get things done. As the day progressed, I saw my chances of heading out the door get dimmer. I texted I would be late. It was only a delay of the inevitable: cancellation, which I did a few minutes ago. My heart and soul need rest and quiet. I'm not in a social mood, I cannot phantom driving nearly an hour across town and then driving home again after putting on a social face I don't feel. I texted that I hoped they understood. A message back from Paul. He doesn't understand...

I think it's just a misunderstanding, but the "Do not understand" message is rather ironic. They do not view animals the way I do. They lost their teenage daughter to cancer about 11 years ago. They had a cat and a dog. They gave their dog away to a neighbor because he was no longer "convenient" for their lifestyle. The cat's health was failing at the time, and they let her hang on until it was time, with no particular attachment or emotion.

I realize that not only am not ready to socialize and but I also don't know what to do about this relationship, I cannot hang around people who do not share my profound love for animals and my deep commitment to the disadvantaged. (I have had and have many special needs peeps...) I would need to talk about MacKenzie now and for some time in the future. My loss is so fresh and the progress I have made in healing so fragile. If I would have gone tonight, and would have felt the need to justify my deep devotion and love for MacKenzie. How could they understand? They value human life above all else. Their beloved daughter. The "it's only a cat" looms...

I'm in retreat.

I'm so very sorry Monique. Not everyone gets that a pet is not just a pet to us. Heck, most of us don't refer to them as pets. These are our children, our sons, our daughters, our family. And like in every family, sometimes there's a deeper connection between two. I've loved and lost many family members, both of the two and four legged versions, but my Ollie is my baby. And that's that.

Thank you so much for your words. A new day dawns, the struggle continues. You are right that to animal lovers, their furred and feathered are not "just animals." What man conveniently forgets through all his "superior wisdom," is that he, too, is an animal. The right to life, to a good and loving life, and respect for life applies to ALL, not just man.

I resolve today to stop worrying about what those who do not bond with animals like I do think, about upseting them. Last night I was more worried about how my friends would feel with yet another cancellation. It's just not about them and it's not my ordnance to get them to understand how much this loss means to me. It's not just about MacKenzie. Loss in my world is very complicated and multi-dimensional. I often wish I could retreat to my bubble, where I was blissfully unaware about man's malicious treatment of all life and the planet that provides so beautifully for him. The more I learned about the plight of animals in trying to help, the more desperate I became, to the point of losing compassion for my fellow man. In retreat from active rescue, I'm focusing on helping one at a time, because (as the starfish saver story tells), for that one, I have made all the difference. There are many loving and kindhearted people out there, and that is important to always remember.

Hi, Monique, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. I can so relate to many of your thoughts and struggles to find an "equilibrium" right now as you travel your grief adjustment journey. Please let me try to reassure you that you are NOT alone.

In my human family I am the "dark horse" because of my beliefs about the non-human inhabitants of this planet, and specifically about my relationship with my precious companions - - beliefs I have had since I was a very young child and the only one in my family to have them - - and to be critically ridiculed for them even to this point in time in my life by my siblings - - which is one of the many reasons why we are not "close". While I love my siblings because they are my human family and want each of them to be safe, happy, and healthy, there is no other "common thread" that holds us together. My precious companions accept me for who I am rather than my social standing, financial wealth (and lack thereof), or what others think of me.

It is here that I have been able to find a common bond with people who truly share the same / similar beliefs that I do - - that our precious companions are living, breathing, feeling souls and spirits who bless us with their unconditional love and undivided attention - - who make us the center of their universe - - and the love bond we share with them is eternal. It is here that I have found people you so poignantly share with us: "There are many loving and kindhearted people out there, and that is important to always remember." Thank you, Monique, for being here with us.

It is important that you try to limit contact right now with people who cannot be supportive for you during your grief adjustment journey. I remember all too well having to put on the "public face" at work (while I was employed) and around my family members after one of my beloved companions transitioned home to the angels. And I remember the flood gates of tears bursting forth uncontrollably as I got in my car to drive home to release the pressure of grief and sorrow from my heart and soul. You need to do what is healthy for YOU, Monique, until you feel strong again to "face the world" in the relationships you value.

I hope today is treating you kindly, Monique, and that you will have a peaceful evening blessed with your beloved MacKenzie's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

I understand the “dark horse” syndrome all too well. I was labeled the “black sheep” growing up. Tacked on to that was that I tended to be pessimistic and negative. It took me well into my 40s to shake these labels. Being different in my family was (is) against cardinal family rule number one. Being different was not sanctioned and approved by the clan, and therefore I was criticized and condemned, rather than celebrated. I am no longer in touch with my family, or my one child. I found I could no longer cope with all their toxicity and chose to exit as a matter of survival.

And so this all fits in with my anger phase. I feel stuck in this phase. I feel ill at ease, irritated with my life, my animals. Misdirected, as its People I feel sick about. Expectations. It’s still so hard for me to really stand on my own two feet in my thinking. Although I do plenty of that, I’m so unsure and it doesn’t feel natural. All of my life I have been and done to appease others, measured my happiness based on the expectations of others. Add to that a lifestyle of rescuing animals that is not main stream. Having a lot of animals is definitely frowned upon. In the same breath, I am the first to be judged and the first to get a call if there is an animal in need. No matter how I try to ralign and realign my expectations of people, I feel left and disappointed by those I thought I could count on. I have cleaned house; there is virtually no one left! And now in my sadness and despair for MacKenzie, I am upset I feel anger. There is not room for this! It’s taking up valuable resources. I thought I was moving past the anger after my conversation with Kristine. Exasperating how the grief stages cycle…

Hi, Monique, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. Indeed, this grief journey is filled with many ups and downs, twists and turns, and turnarounds - - particularly during the deep grief. Anger is a natural part of this grief journey - - one emotion among many that we ALL endure through. So please let me try to reassure you that what you are experiencing is a very normal part of this grief adjustment journey.

I know what it's like to think some people can be relied upon when needed only to find out the opposite is true. It not only is disappointing but the realization adds to the frustration, grief, and - - anger. Because we are emotional beings by nature our emotions cannot be "turned on / off" like an electric switch - - we are not mechanical robots in an age of high technology.

I can relate to the "focus" of your life as you share with us: "All of my life I have been and done to appease others, measured my happiness based on the expectations of others." I was raised to do the same and have always been the one who has been expected to "change" to appease the whims of the moment of everyone else while I was expected to accept everyone on their terms. Now that I am in my senior years I have finally been able to acquire a decent acceptance of who I am as an individual person. However, I still experience vulnerable moments when I am emotionally vulnerable - - such as grieving the physical loss of a beloved companion. Grieving is not an "isolated" event - - it can stir up emotions from other experiences that we may have thought had been resolved or that we never realized were significant.

Please let me try to reassure you that you are on the "right path" to finding a peace in your heart. I do know how challenging the process is, and how frustrating it is because it takes time which can seem soooooo slow. Just remember it is the tortoise who wins the race - - not the hare - - and equally important - - please know each of us are here for you for as long and as often as you need us.

I hope today is treating you kindly, Monique, and that you will have a peaceful evening blessed with your beloved MacKenzie's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam

I looked forward to your response, searching for comfort and knowing you would be right around the corner. You relate so very well. I thank you for you kind words of understanding and encouragement. I will refer back to them often. I am going into my evening with a little ray of sunshine and hope. There are also some recent posts that have really tugged at my heart. The one about Sarah... and Hershey...

Hi, Monique, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. There were several things I learned while I was in years of intensive physical rehab from severe injuries. One of them is that sometimes the process of putting our lives back to some semblence of sanity means reaching out to others who are also hurting as we share their challenges through the tears of our own. I saw many people who were suffering through more grievously severe injuries than my own and I realized the depth of the many lessons of thankfulness that I learned from my mother who was also a victim of the same severe trauma event and who succumbed to her injuries 6 weeks later.

As each of us come here broken and reeling from the deepest pain we will know on this side of eternity from the physical loss of our beloved companions, there are no strangers here. Although we will probably never meet during our earthly journeys, we share a friendship that unites us - - for our beloved companions in their continued mission to provide for us brings us here where we can find comfort, support, encouragement, and hope from those who truly understand what we are going through, and with whom we can share what is in our hearts without fear of judgment or rejection. Sharing the loss of others does not diminish our own deepest sorrow - - but in sharing our grief together we hopefully find that the weight of our individual burdens is lifted just a little.

I hope today is treating you kindly, Monique, and that you will have a peaceful evening blessed with your beloved MacKenzie's sweet Living Spirit to comfort you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and please let us know how you're doing.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam