I hope it's okay for me to post this. I guess I can't really imagine anyone chastising me for doing so, but I always worry (my friends always smile and agree when I say, "You know how I worry about everything."). I've lost people (those that have died, those that have grown distant, others), but the loss that's on my mind right now is that of my dog.
It's not the anniversary of his death, but it wasn't terribly recent, either; he died in May 2010. I definitely feel like I'm dealing with his passing better these days than in the first few months after it. I always felt like I had come to terms with his mortality as he was getting older, and perhaps I wouldn't have taken it quite so hard if his death had been more expected (perhaps an illness leading up to putting him down). But even though he was getting up there in years (as members of his species/breed go), I could have done without the abruptness of the accident. It really was an accident, and no one is to blame at all (unless you want to blame the lawn guy for leaving the gate open when it is always, always shut; but I feel like that sort of abstract blame only embitters me and doesn't result in anything positive, so I let it go).
Even though I know he never would have blamed me for not being there with him, and even though there is reason to believe he didn't suffer much or at all as a direct result of the accident, I can't help but imagine sometimes that he must have been so scared and alone, so confused...I can't help but wonder if he was thinking of me, or of any of my family members. I can't help wishing I could have let him know that I---we---loved him, and that we didn't mean to not be there for him, and that he impacted our lives in a very particular way. I want to believe he knew, or that, perhaps...he knows. It's the loss that keeps coming back to me when I feel alone and when I've experienced other losses. And while most of the time when I think of him, I remember the good things about him, and how happy he was, and how kind and loving he was, sometimes it's hard not to feel the pain of the tragedy as acutely as I felt it that day.
I'm one of those people who feels a strong affinity for animals; I can't help but see things "their way" and try to understand how they're feeling and why they're behaving the way they are. Perhaps my ability to empathize with the pain, fear, and struggles of all creatures (and not just domesticated pets) is making the loss of my dog more difficult for me to handle. I know he was confused and in pain (there isn't any denying that), and it's hard for me to overcome the sense of what he could have been experiencing.
Thanks for letting me get this out there. On the upside, I volunteer with a (no-kill) rescue taking care of cats in a sanctuary. I think it's helping me learn to create boundaries that allow me to feel affection without being devastated by separation or loss of the object of affection (such as when a cat gets adopted or must be put down because of illness). :cat:
It's not the anniversary of his death, but it wasn't terribly recent, either; he died in May 2010. I definitely feel like I'm dealing with his passing better these days than in the first few months after it. I always felt like I had come to terms with his mortality as he was getting older, and perhaps I wouldn't have taken it quite so hard if his death had been more expected (perhaps an illness leading up to putting him down). But even though he was getting up there in years (as members of his species/breed go), I could have done without the abruptness of the accident. It really was an accident, and no one is to blame at all (unless you want to blame the lawn guy for leaving the gate open when it is always, always shut; but I feel like that sort of abstract blame only embitters me and doesn't result in anything positive, so I let it go).
Even though I know he never would have blamed me for not being there with him, and even though there is reason to believe he didn't suffer much or at all as a direct result of the accident, I can't help but imagine sometimes that he must have been so scared and alone, so confused...I can't help but wonder if he was thinking of me, or of any of my family members. I can't help wishing I could have let him know that I---we---loved him, and that we didn't mean to not be there for him, and that he impacted our lives in a very particular way. I want to believe he knew, or that, perhaps...he knows. It's the loss that keeps coming back to me when I feel alone and when I've experienced other losses. And while most of the time when I think of him, I remember the good things about him, and how happy he was, and how kind and loving he was, sometimes it's hard not to feel the pain of the tragedy as acutely as I felt it that day.
I'm one of those people who feels a strong affinity for animals; I can't help but see things "their way" and try to understand how they're feeling and why they're behaving the way they are. Perhaps my ability to empathize with the pain, fear, and struggles of all creatures (and not just domesticated pets) is making the loss of my dog more difficult for me to handle. I know he was confused and in pain (there isn't any denying that), and it's hard for me to overcome the sense of what he could have been experiencing.
Thanks for letting me get this out there. On the upside, I volunteer with a (no-kill) rescue taking care of cats in a sanctuary. I think it's helping me learn to create boundaries that allow me to feel affection without being devastated by separation or loss of the object of affection (such as when a cat gets adopted or must be put down because of illness). :cat: