The Night My Beloved Boogie Died... Options

[Pamela S.]

Our cherished Amazon of 25 years, Boogie, passed away on 10/17/13 and I can't stop crying. My husband and I are completely devastated. Even though Boogie was not feeling well recently (the vet diagnosed it as an unspecified liver problem), he continued to behave normally, so his passing was quite unexpected. Whenever he did display any rare signs of illness, he always recovered so quickly that we just thought he would bounce back again as usual. I can count on one hand the times Boogie actually became ill over the past 25 years, but one day this past September he became alarmingly droopy, weak and off-balance, and it took hours for him to return to normal. That's when I took him to the vet and found out there was a problem with his liver. The vet couldn't be sure what the exact problem might have been without further, more stressful tests, which he recommended against, so he simply prescribed some meds for Boogie in hopes that it would clear up whatever was bothering him. There was never a thought that his illness might be life-threatening. In the meantime, it also never occurred to us that our bird was getting older. We just assumed he would be with us for a very long time to come. We've shared our home with many different animals over the years (we just lost a special-needs bunny of 8 years a few weeks ago), but we always assumed Boogie would be the one to outlive them all. I don't even know if I noticed he was slowing down a little bit and sleeping more than he used to. Maybe I just didn't want to notice it. He seemed so happy and normal, and giving Boogie the meds (3 different liquids twice a day) was torturous to both him and me. It was extremely traumatic and he hated it. He would gag and sneeze when I managed to get any down his throat, but most of the pink sticky mess would end up on my clothes, his feathers and the walls, so I decided to focus on his diet and lay off the meds for awhile. I checked online and his symptoms seemed to indicate that he might be suffering with fatty liver disease, so I purchased specially formulated parrot food for him and made sure he had only low protein, low fat, low starch and low sugar fruits and veggies. He had only 2 very minor relapses over the past few weeks, but bounced back almost immediately. Everything seemed to be going well, until he had a more serious relapse that took him over an hour to recover from, but still he returned to normal and we just chalked it up to his liver ailment. I tried one more time to give him some meds, but that was as disastrous as before. On his last day, October 17th, Boogie was up to usual antics, but as late afternoon approached, he seemed to be getting tired and off-balance. By that evening, he was in a full relapse, so I held him in my lap as I had always done in the past until he recovered. As the hours passed, he rallied a few times, and I was definitely worried, but I thought all would be well. I'll never know if it was due to his age or his liver, but my poor little bird just couldn't bounce back this time. He died in my arms late that night.

It was my husband who decades ago wanted a parrot, but for whatever reason, Boogie had bonded with me, so I'm having a particularly difficult time dealing with his death. The bird and I built a very special relationship over the next 25 years that I cannot fully describe in words. He was a part of me. He was my constant companion around the house, and now I just feel an enormous hole in my life. No matter what I did on a daily basis (cleaning, cooking, relaxing...absolutely everything), he was there on my shoulder. When my husband and I argued, my little Boogie was there to soothe my nerves. When we planned an evening out, we had to be home as soon as possible to make sure Boogie didn't have to spend an extra moment in his cage. Our lives literally revolved around our bird, but we loved him so much it was a joy, not a hardship. Boogie had a love/hate relationship with my husband since he was considered an "intruder" by our parrot, but they shared many special moments together as well.

I am overwhelmed by despair at the unfairness of my bird being taken from me, and guilt that I should have or could have done more for him. He was my life and I don't know how to go on without my Boogie.

[moon_beam]

Hi, Pamela, thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. Please let me try to reassure you that what you are feeling is very normal deep grief when you share with us: "I still haven't been able to return to "normal" life yet. I used to love cooking, but that was something I shared with Boogie. I can't even look inside the fridge without thinking of my bird and the treats he loved to eat. Every corner of our house is a painful reminder of Boogie. There have been times over the past week when I couldn't bear to spend one more minute at home, so my husband and I would go for a drive, but then while we were out the thought of having to return to our dreadfully quiet, bird-less house would just haunt me. At this point, I still can't believe Boogie is gone and I'm feeling rather numb."

When we are in deep grief our bodies go into "survival mode" - - hence the numbness you are feeling right now. It takes time for your mind and body to process the trauma of your grief. Eventually the numbness will ease as you progress in your grief adjustment journey.

I am so sorry your husband is not as supportive as you need him to be. But please know each of us are here for you through every step of your grief adjustment journey for as long and as often as you need us.

I hope today is treating you kindly, Pamela, and that you will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Boogie'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

[Pamela S.]

Dear moon_beam,

Thanks so much for allowing me to vent. Though I have family and friends who sympathize, the only person who truly understands the loss of Boogie to me and who was there when Boogie joined our lives is my husband, Neil. I turned 50 this year and both Boogie and Neil have been with me for exactly half my life. Neil loved our bird too, but even he admits Boogie and I had a special bond. Unfortunately, Neil can't handle grief at all. He prefers to "drown his sorrows" instead of dealing with them. I made the mistake of mentioning to him how painful it is to live in a house that is a constant reminder of Boogie, so now he is pressuring us into moving. I don't think this is the right time for such a drastic upheaval, but he just doesn't want to listen.

It's only been 2 weeks since Boogie passed, but it feels as if I've been mourning him forever.