It has been a day of crying. Just a puddle of despair....
.....and lots of self-doubting questions.
How will I go on?
How will I go to work today? How do I face anyone? What if they ask about him? How can I maintain any kind of decorum or composure? How can I talk, utter a word, without crying? And then how do I stop?
How do I go on?
How do I get through the rest of the days ahead when they can't possibly contain any light or joy in them?
Did I let him go too soon? Did I really (really) do all I could have? (Internally I never, ever, answer this question with conviction that "I did!" There was still chemically induced coma to let his gut heal for a while. Stem cells. Cloning. More radiation. More chemo? Bringing him to the teaching college to say "DO anything, everything. Money is no object."
Charlie, his roommate, companion, partner in crime for the better part of the last decade, is as lost and alone as I am. For the last year of Jekyll's intense treatments, unyielding all night emergency bathroom requests and alarms Charlie sat in the bed next to him. He never once got up with us. knowing these were just a part of his disease process. Not time to wake for the day. Not anytime to be going outside at O-dark-middle-of -the-night-morning for anything of interest. He would open one eye, check to make sure one of the parents was getting up to take Jekyll out and then go back to sleep. Charlie has been the guardian for Jekyll's whole life. The big brother overseeing the rambunctious energetic trouble seeking beagle-hound. He has kept a watchful eye, been very sedentary as Jekyll slowed down. Charlie's life had to sit in the wings waiting while Jekyll took so much time and attention. The daily 4 mile runs had to be truncated to long walks in the woods twice a day. The adventure remained but the stamina waned. Charlie, who has sat vigil or left his side in the last 6 months waited. He waited for his friend to get better. He waited for his mom to get more time to give him. His life got smaller, subdued, and simple. I owe him an apology for that. He never took time or attention away from Jekyll.. I didn't have any left over to spare. He was respectful of that.
On the first night without Jekyll, amidst the sobbing and the silence, and the loss, the loss of Jekyll's presence which brought a coldness and a stillness to the house which loomed, foreboding and haunting, Charlie got into his bed, curled up and closed his eyes like he has for years before. He is our steady sleeper. He never gets up at night. He never got up the thousands of times Jekyll needed to. He never made a peep until I got up and told him it was "time to start our day." That night, this past Sunday night, our first night without Jekyll in 9 years, Charlie got up every hour to summon me. Every hour he scratched me to wake up, he ran down the stairs, shot out the door, looking. Left. Right. Ears up erect. Listening. Looking.
Charlie looked for Jekyll all night long. Eight trips outside. Eight trips darting outside intent to find him. Eight trips being coaxed back inside reluctantly. Apologetically. Unwilling to leave him alone outside. Knowing he was not in the bed room, not next to him in his bed. Not with us.
It is so hard for all of us. The mark that this loss bears.
Two days after losing his best friend I still cannot get Charlie to eat. I have left over steak, roast beef, chicken nuggets. Charlie will only eat the snacks Jekyll was being blandished by. Charlie has retreated into a subdued routine. Nothing gets him happy. Nothing pulls him out. Not walks, not food, not me.
I lost one kid on Sunday, and I cannot seem to cajole my other into rejoining the world. I get it. I do. I don't want to be here without Jekyll either. It just not the same.
People, souls, all of us, retreat into ourselves when life denies us the comfort we need. It is safer, quieter, peaceful here with my memories and loss.. no one will ask me anything here. I don't have to answer the why's, the how's, the dreaded "how are you doing?" I can just hug my dog who already knows the answers.
More on Jekyll here;
The Little Things.
Losing My Beloved Jekyll-Pup
there are dozens more stories on him.. he was my muse,,
Jekyll Arrives
.....and lots of self-doubting questions.
 |
| My dearest Jekyll-pup.. How I miss this face.... |
How will I go to work today? How do I face anyone? What if they ask about him? How can I maintain any kind of decorum or composure? How can I talk, utter a word, without crying? And then how do I stop?
How do I go on?
How do I get through the rest of the days ahead when they can't possibly contain any light or joy in them?
Did I let him go too soon? Did I really (really) do all I could have? (Internally I never, ever, answer this question with conviction that "I did!" There was still chemically induced coma to let his gut heal for a while. Stem cells. Cloning. More radiation. More chemo? Bringing him to the teaching college to say "DO anything, everything. Money is no object."
Charlie, his roommate, companion, partner in crime for the better part of the last decade, is as lost and alone as I am. For the last year of Jekyll's intense treatments, unyielding all night emergency bathroom requests and alarms Charlie sat in the bed next to him. He never once got up with us. knowing these were just a part of his disease process. Not time to wake for the day. Not anytime to be going outside at O-dark-middle-of -the-night-morning for anything of interest. He would open one eye, check to make sure one of the parents was getting up to take Jekyll out and then go back to sleep. Charlie has been the guardian for Jekyll's whole life. The big brother overseeing the rambunctious energetic trouble seeking beagle-hound. He has kept a watchful eye, been very sedentary as Jekyll slowed down. Charlie's life had to sit in the wings waiting while Jekyll took so much time and attention. The daily 4 mile runs had to be truncated to long walks in the woods twice a day. The adventure remained but the stamina waned. Charlie, who has sat vigil or left his side in the last 6 months waited. He waited for his friend to get better. He waited for his mom to get more time to give him. His life got smaller, subdued, and simple. I owe him an apology for that. He never took time or attention away from Jekyll.. I didn't have any left over to spare. He was respectful of that.
 |
| Jekyll and Charlie,, always ready for another adventure. |
Charlie looked for Jekyll all night long. Eight trips outside. Eight trips darting outside intent to find him. Eight trips being coaxed back inside reluctantly. Apologetically. Unwilling to leave him alone outside. Knowing he was not in the bed room, not next to him in his bed. Not with us.
It is so hard for all of us. The mark that this loss bears.
Two days after losing his best friend I still cannot get Charlie to eat. I have left over steak, roast beef, chicken nuggets. Charlie will only eat the snacks Jekyll was being blandished by. Charlie has retreated into a subdued routine. Nothing gets him happy. Nothing pulls him out. Not walks, not food, not me.
I lost one kid on Sunday, and I cannot seem to cajole my other into rejoining the world. I get it. I do. I don't want to be here without Jekyll either. It just not the same.
People, souls, all of us, retreat into ourselves when life denies us the comfort we need. It is safer, quieter, peaceful here with my memories and loss.. no one will ask me anything here. I don't have to answer the why's, the how's, the dreaded "how are you doing?" I can just hug my dog who already knows the answers.
More on Jekyll here;
The Little Things.
Losing My Beloved Jekyll-Pup
there are dozens more stories on him.. he was my muse,,
Jekyll Arrives
I'm so sorry. This is the downside of owning a wonderful pet. When I had to put down my little Milo, I had the same doubts as you. I beat myself up mentally, thinking that I could have let him live a little longer. Guilt was on my shoulders for a while, until I realized that I really did do the right thing.
ReplyDeleteIt will take time, but you and Charlie (poor guy) will get thru this. Many hugs, Roberta from California
I am so sorry to hear about this. I have no words, every time I hear / read of a pet's passing I am thrusted back to the loss of my Leo. I mourn for you and with you. I will keep you in my thoughts...
ReplyDelete