I Will Cry, My Miss Daisy Options

[AlexisMarie]

Friday, August 6th..a day I will never forget..the day I said goodbye to my sweet Daisy. I was so alone, so scared. A couple days ago I read the posts for that day...I'm so touched that some of your thoughts and prayers were with me that day...Thank you so much. The last week with her was so hard. The clock became my worst enemy..days turned into hours that turned into minutes that turned into seconds. The last 24 hours became the last for everything. The last time we ate dinner together...our last sunset...the last time I watched you hunt for frogs in the evening...the last kiss you gave me before bedtime. I layed awake in the darkness and listened to her sleep through the night. And like clockwork she was up at 5:30 a.m. She stretched and came over to me to kiss me good morning..for the last time. I didnt want to start the day..our last day. We ate breakfast and went outside to watch our last sunrise. after a couple of hours I gave her a treat..her last one. After that she layed down for a nap. The house was so quiet, I just watched her nap. The clock seemed to be ticking so loud, I thought at 9:35 I will put my shoes on and take her for a ride...for the last time. Walking up to the vet's office was the longest walk. I stopped at the door picked her up and just stood there for a moment, knowing once I opened that door the world was going to come crashing down on me. I stood inside behind a wall infront of a small window. I held on to her to tight as I rocked her back and forth whispering in her ear that I loved her. They called her name...for the last time. I signed papers and took off her collar for the last time. I started crying, I kissed her...for the last time. I sat in my truck sobbing clutching her collar to my heart..when I was able, I drove home, layed on the floor where she was napping just minutes ago...and cried. It scared me at times...hearing myself cry out loud..I could hear the pain and heartache behind it. I cant believe she's gone. She's all around this house, her bowls, her bed, her toys, all the pictures.

One day I will be able to look at those pictures and smile and remember I what a wonderful and happy dog you were, and all the good times we shared. But until then. . . I will cry.

One day I will be able to go outside and remember all the things you liked to do, digging in the garden with me, looking up at me with dirt all over your face, so proud that you were helping mommy, all our sunrises and sunsets, watching you lay in the sun, playing with with the frogs at night. But for now I will stay inside. . . and I will cry.

One day I will go walking on the ditch. The same walk we used to take for years. I will . . . because that was your most favorite thing to do. It wont be for awhile because I've never been out there without you, and they will ask "where's Daisy?" Right now I dont have the heart to tell them you are not with me anymore. So for now I will stay home . . . and I will cry.

One day grandma and I will talk about you and laugh at all the silly things you used to do. You loved grandma. She will miss you on her laps. But until then . . . we will cry.

One day I will go camping again. It wont be the same without you. You loved to go fishing. Grandpa will miss his fish inspector. But for now the fish can wait. Maybe next year . . . and I will cry.

One day I will get used to coming in the front door and not be greeted by you and your wagging tail. Instead I will have to deal with the deafening sounds of silence, this will have to be the new norm for me. But for now . . .I will cry.

One day I will get used to waking up in the morning without your Daisy Kisses. I loved those, I will miss those the most. But until then . . . I will cry.

One day I will wake up in the morning and realize that I didnt cry myself to sleep. It is then, that I will know that the healing process has begun. God will heal the broken hearted. But until then . . . I will cry.

For the past 24 years I have been on Mommy Duty with you and KittyKat. You both had me on a schedule. Now I'm not quite sure what to do. I feel lost, lonely and confused. I will struggle for awhile until I find my own schedule. I believe that I was blessed with the one perfect cat and the one perfect dog. There could be no other, I will not be hearing the sounds of pitter patter paws in my house anymore. I couldn't possibly go through this pain again.

The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that you are in your new body, no more aches and pains. So you run along and go find KittyKat. She will be so happy to see you again. And when I come to the end of my journey here . . . I will cry . . . for the last time. Only these will be tears of joy because I get to see my two girls again.

I love you Daisy
My little bug-a-loo
I will never forget you

[moon_beam]

Hi, Annette - - I love your depiction of the row boat and toothpick oars. And that gigantic wave not only sweeps you back out to sea, but it swamps the boat as well so you're not only having to row but bail as well. Oh yes, I know the feeling well. And I can relate to your wishing that this grief journey would hurry up and move on - - more to the point - - never happen. One of the coping mechanisms we try to use when we are in a crisis situation - - and losing the physical presence of a beloved companion certainly counts as a crisis - - is called "rationalization." We "know" it's better for them to not be here suffering - - absolutely true. We "know" they are in a better place - - absolutely true. We "know" we are blessed to have shared our lives with them during their earthly journey - - absolutely true. But unfortunately this does not console or comfort our grieving hearts that ache - - physically and emotionally - - to hold them, to feel them, to touch them.

Our lives are based on the physical senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. Adjusting our lives without the physical presence of our beloved companions is a HUGE one, and unfortunately, is a very painful one - - both physically and emotionally. We also experience what is called "detachment" - - the very thing you experienced when you were talking to the person about your precious Daisy. This is also a coping mechanism that protects us from being overwhelmed in difficult situations sharing information that is painful to us. Our minds, body, and spirit are not separate entities. What affects one affects the other parts of us as well in some form or fashion whether or not we are aware of it at the time.

To cope with our grief we need each of these coping mechanisms. Unfortunately they don't always "work" when we'd like them to. But we need to keep telling ourselves that our beloved companions are in a better place so that eventually as the deep grief passes hopefully our hearts and minds will be in some form of peace - - which is what our beloved companions want for us. And there are times when we need to be able to "detach" ourselves from feeling the enormous grief of our loss so that hopefully eventually our hearts and minds will be filled with the joyful memories we have of our beloved companions - - which is another thing that they want for us. Of course this grief journey is a lot more complex as are these coping mechanisms, but I hope in sharing some of this information will help you to know that what you are feeling, Annette, is NORMAL.

Annette, don't worry about not being able to look at your precious Daisy's pictures yet. You do for you what is best for you, and please don't compare yourself to anyone else, okay? Oslo's Alma Mater, Guiding Eyes for the Blind in Yorktown Heights, NY, is holding a picture contest for their "retired" service partners. The employee who is heading up this project wrote me a lovely note asking me to send my favorite picture of Oslo. Even though it's coming up on a year of his joining the angels, it was a bit of a challenge to go through his pictures, and I couldn't decide on just "one". So I e-mailed four or five pictures that I liked the most and asked her to pick one because I just couldn't right now. So, I do understand how you feel about the pictures. They can be very comforting, at times, but only at the RIGHT TIME FOR YOU.

Annette, it is always good hearing from you and sharing how you're doing. It is an honor to be able to offer you comfort, encouragement, and support in your journey. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, my friend, and that I look forward to knowing how you're doing whenever possible.

Peace and blessings,
moon_beam