I wish....

[ysobelle]

http://www.flickr.com/photos/ysobelle/4843367868/sizes/l/in/photostream/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/ysobelle/4842772195/sizes/l/in/photostream/



I have this image in my head. I'm on a train, and it's pulling away from the station. She's sitting there, looking back at me, with that wide-eyed, calm expression, paws primly together, watching me go. I want so badly to get out and go back. But it's a train. Trains don't go back. She's gone. I can't go back.

Part of it, I'm sure, is my fear of her being alone. I sent her off alone, and moved on without her. She's so small, and so sweet, and so gentle, and I left her there all alone.

As I looked at her on the cold steel table, 4.30 on Wednesday afternoon, I was reminded of my grandmother's death, and how we had a shomer to sit with her and recite prayers continuously until she was buried. It seemed so beautiful, and so respectful, and so comforting. But we don't do that for cats, and all I could manage, as Dr. Trotman picked her up and took her body away, was, "Will they be...." I couldn't say any more. But she understood.

"Yeah," she said kindly. "Yeah, they will."




I had a huge fight with my mom this afternoon. The kind after which we don't speak for days. But tonight, I just broke down, kneeling at the side of my bed, sobbing. I called, and I just begged them to tell me I did the right thing. It's not that I don't believe it, but I just wanted someone to say to me, I just needed to hear: "It's okay. You had to. You did the right thing." I understand it. I recognise it. But I'm a long way from accepting it.

Comments

[bronxelf-ag001.livejournal.com]

Doing the right thing is still so hard. It makes is no less right.

[laurensa.livejournal.com]

When I was 18 months old, my dad brought home a Sheltie puppy who quickly became a beloved member of our family. On a terrible day when I was seventeen, my dad slowly walked out to the car, with a blind,deaf, arthritic, dying old friend at his side. My mom ran after him. "Dave, don't take him." And my dad said sadly,"Sharon, I can't make him a puppy again." That was 30 years ago this September. Writing about it still makes me tear up, but I know, at the bottom of my soul,it was okay. We had to. We did the right thing.

It's okay. I promise you, it's okay. You gave your beloved friend the last gift you could, by letting her go with peace and dignity.

[cypherindigo.livejournal.com]

You did the right thing.

Cry for her, and cry for yourself, you lost a friend that you loved.

[wednesday42.livejournal.com]

You gave her a peaceful end, loving her all the way. She knew this. You didn't force her into a half-life, but let her go when it was time which is the hardest thing of all to do. It still hurts, but it doesn't mean we we'd stop ourselves from loving them to spare ourselves that pain.

*big hugs*

[curiouschilde.livejournal.com]

*HUGE HUGS*

I wish i could be there to give them to you in person. I know. I still grieve for my man.

You did the right thing. It's sooooo hard to feel that it was right, but it was.

*HUGS*

[kaige-of-ct.livejournal.com]

Normally I don't say things like "I know exactly what you're going through," because generally people don't want to feel like you understand their pain. When you hurt, it feels so fucking personal and unique. You just want people to shut up and hug you.

But in this case, I know exactly what you're going through. My dog King was sick, and I brought him to the vet. We were assured tests would be run and I should return later that afternoon. He died there before I was able to come back. I didn't know he was that badly off. And I felt such enormous guilt, what if I did something else differently? Why didn't I know better? Why couldn't I have gotten there faster? What did he think? Did he feel abandoned? Betrayed? So much went through my head and heart. I wanted people to tell me it wasn't my fault I didn't get there in time. That he didn't hate me for it. That I made the right decision in bringing him to the vet at all. But sometimes forgiving yourself is hard, even when we didn't do a damn thing wrong.

I'm so sorry for your loss. You did everything you could and then a bunch more. Sometimes the most merciful and loving thing we can do for someone we care for, is the hardest thing for us personally.

[morriganswitch.livejournal.com]

I should have stayed the night. I'm sorry.

[ysobelle.livejournal.com]

No, honey, It's okay. When I completely lost it, you were in the living room. It just happens. Thank you so much for coming over. I so appreciate it.

[gnostuff.livejournal.com]

I'm so sorry for your loss hon, message me if you want to talk.

[elionwyr.livejournal.com]

Oh honey. Love you. You did the right thing.

[ravenskye8.livejournal.com]

May her memory be for a blessing.

*hugs*

(I wish I could see the photos, but they're marked private...)

[blkstarsapphire.livejournal.com]

HaMakom yenachem et'chem b'toch shar avay'lay Tzion vee'Yerushalayim

May g-d comfort you among the other mourners of Zion and Jerusalem

*hugs*

leaves me speachless.

[irishcoyote.livejournal.com]

*hugs*