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Day Four.

Roxie has been gone since Friday morning.

Photo courtesy of my sister, Jules

Photo courtesy of my sister, Jules

It’s been so difficult, but bits and pieces of my days are getting easier. On Friday I cried and cried and cried. On Saturday I cried and cried and slept, mostly unable to get off of the couch. Yesterday I didn’t cry at all, only becoming a little teary-eyed when taking my first walk without her.

Today, Day Four, I was fine until the vet called to let me know that her paw print was ready, and when I drove over I felt my chest tighten and all of a sudden when I parked the car I was hardly breathing, trying to push it all down so I could walk in. I cried all the way home and while I opened the small box in my kitchen. More sobbing as I pressed my fingers into the places where her paw pads were just four days ago, and then I composed myself and ate lunch.

That’s how life is right now. I’m fine and then I’m not. And then I am again. And then I’m…well, you get it.

I guess it’s a pretty normal way to be only four days after one of the most intense, traumatic periods of my life that ended very poorly, to put it lightly.

All of this happened so fast—in fact, the picture I used in the last post was taken just last Monday, which is unbelievable to me!—and she’s really EVERYWHERE in this house. I come across things here or there and I make one of three decisions: throw away (old treats), put up or away (her collar, which now has a home on top of the bookcase), or leave right there until I can handle moving it (her food and water dish, which are still on the family room floor). It’s a process. Sigh. But I’ll get there.

Everyone has been SO NICE. I have been held up by my closest friends and family, but there was so much love sent my way from pretty much every direction. I received texts and Facebook messages from people I haven’t regularly talked to in years. The kindness and support blew me away, and although there really isn’t anything that anyone can say to make the despair go away when there’s loss like this, the check-ins and messages of “I’m so sorry; I’m thinking about you” really did help me. I appreciate it so much, truly, so thank you. And you. And you. And you.

This whole ordeal has taught me (or reminded me of) a few lessons, some of which I can’t even put into words yet, but the Facebook “On This Day” feature helped bring one to the forefront this morning: appreciation of what you’ve got, when you’ve got it. This video from two years ago popped up, and I have watched it countless times today, laughing more than crying. One minute she was here, and the next she wasn’t…but boy, did we have fun while it lasted.

Comments on this entry are closed.

  • Jenn February 23, 2016, 2:02 am

    I want to hug you so much! I love you. YOU are number one. But mainly? I’m blessed you’re in my life. Which might not be the right thing to say when you’re feeling so heartbroken. But you know why.

  • Mom24_4evermom February 23, 2016, 6:32 am

    Another eloquent post. It is a process. Hang in there, be kind to yourself. (((hugs)))

  • Cheryl at Busy Since Birth February 23, 2016, 7:36 am

    Wish I could be there to stroke your hair this time around. May her memory be for a blessing for all of you.

  • Margaret February 23, 2016, 7:49 am

    We’re thinking of you so much!! So much.

  • Syljvia Joy February 23, 2016, 9:07 am

    So glad things maybe a little better. Did you read your first book. That may help to remenber your other love. We love you and are thinking of you a lot.
    Love Grandma W

  • Kristin Shaw February 23, 2016, 3:02 pm

    Sending you all the love in my heart. I know this is hard without sweet Roxie, and you will always love her with the lovely memories she has left behind. xo

  • TheNextMartha February 23, 2016, 8:16 pm

    So much love for you and your family. ((hugs))

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