Her final gift.

Uggg, y’all.

I feel like I’ve been run over by a damn bus. A BIG DAMN BUS.

A lot of tears were shed yesterday, and then we took the kids with us to Nashville to pick up Eliah from the airport and the weather was TERRIBLE and we were there at RUSH HOUR so just surviving was distracting us from the chaos of saying goodbye to Sweetie.

And I realized I forgot to put the recycling out. Which is not a HUGE deal because I go to the recyclery on the weekends with my office recycling but it’s just a reminder: OH YEAH, LIFE KEEPS GOING ON EVEN WHEN YOU ARE SOBBING ABOUT YOUR DEAD DOG.

The closet where she sleeps in the room where I often sleep was empty all night. I never heard her collar jingle as she got up to stretch, I didn’t hear her nails clacking on the hardwoods as she paced to try to find comfy spots. She didn’t wake me up to go outside several times. She didn’t wake me up for head scratches. I slept solidly but I also slept horribly, if that makes sense. My Dad came to me in my dream and I knew in the dream he was Dead and he told me he couldn’t see everything beyond the veil but he saw enough – and that he was very proud of E.

Who the f*ck knows what any of that means. It was weird though, it startled me so much in my dream that I was startled when I woke.

Looking at the clock now and I should be ready to great the day but I am so NOT ready. In any form.

Alas, I have to go out and face the world, something I was struggling with before saying goodbye to my dear Sweetie. I have to pack lunches and wake up the kids and finish the laundry and be human on a day where I just want to curl up on the couch and cry some more. And as grateful as I am for SO MANY FRIENDS who commiserated about how terrible losing a pet is, I still don’t think taking two days off to grieve a dog is acceptable. So off to work I go.

This is the last photo I took with my girl. Right when I knew we were going to have to say goodbye. She’d been crying in pain periodically for no reason, shaking when she stood, but trying SO HARD to stay hear for head scratches…so hard she was panting non-stop. She just kept trying to be Sweetie, a name she earned – she was not given. But it was so taxing on her frail and old body and watching her fight the pain and get exhausted just to show us she was sill the sweetest, was her last gift to me. To all of us as she tried to rally as we said our goodbyes. I had to make everyone give her a break because I could see how exhausted she was just trying to be receptive to the love and trying to return it. Sweetie until the very end. I’ll never forget it.

7 thoughts on “Her final gift.

  1. Susan Phelan says:

    I am crying also in that deeply personal and totally universal way humans share the deepest of grief. How we are able to then stop, and move through the day, and all the relationships and responsibilities, is a mystery and a miracle. Peace and solace to you and your family on this first “normal” day without your beloved Sweetie.

  2. Fraulein N says:

    I’m so sorry. I’m sorry your dog is gone, and I’m sorry I never got to meet her, because she really does look like just the sweetest thing. Take care of yourself.

  3. Meredith says:

    I’m so sorry.
    I have my Ellie’s tag on my key ring. My husband put it there at the vet and I haven’t taken it off. Its a nice reminder and when it jingles with the keys it reminds me of her when she’d shake her head or run through the house.

  4. Janet says:

    Hi Kim 🙂 I know what it’s like to lose the dog you love. Sweetie was exactly her name. Lots of positivity to you and your family. With love.

  5. Lisa says:

    Oh, my tears are flowing while reading this. I have been there, more than once, and the pain is so soul-shattering. The love animals give us is unlike any other. My heart is so heavy for you.

  6. It’s everywhere and it’s everything. I know. It gets better, but so, so slowly. I’m in the “it still sucks” phase now, and you know, it sucks. Hugs.

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