The Passage Of Time
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With the passage of time come memories and recollections.
Every year in mid-May, the tree that hangs over one corner of my patio bursts into tiny white blooms. The heady scent perfumes the air. Butterflies and bees hover over the flowers.
I sit outside and breathe in the scent. It’s so incredibly sweet and fragrant. In a week or so the blooms will fade. Tiny bits of the blooms will fall and scatter all over the patio.
It reminds me that for everything, there is a season. Life is precious and often far too short. But seasons pass on by, I know. To the next one. Winter, spring, summer, or fall, Carole King would sing in her song “You’ve Got A Friend.” I always loved that song.
What Grief Is:
Grief is a wide yawning hole. You stand at the precipice and look down into a bottomless pit of sorrow. And then, unable to keep your balance, you fall in.
You swim in it until you’re so tired your arms grow weary. Sometimes you wonder if you should just give in and stop fighting the tide.
The worst part is that you have no choice in the matter. Life can take what is most precious to you. And suddenly you’re left to swim in a cold, dark place that at times threatens to pull you under.
It can happen in an instant. You can be happy, and life is normal, until it isn’t normal anymore.
Yet I smell the heavenly scent of the white blooms on the tree that I enjoy every year, and I feel no joy.
I think of my sweet Abi, of her bigger-than-life personality, and I can hardly bear it.
Taking Her Photo:
On the last day of Abi’s life, I took two photos. I hesitated before I took them. I didn’t want to remember her in pain. But I couldn’t stop myself. I photograph life, and what happened is part of life.
It is a desperately sad period that I won’t want to remember. But it is part of my story. It is Abi’s story.
I couldn’t let her go without recording her alive before the vet arrived at my door to help her cross the Rainbow Bridge.
She was sick and weak. Her left paw was wrapped in a bandage due to the intravenous fluids she’d been getting. It was the place they put the needle in.
There are all those firsts to face. And then the passage of time.
The first time I took photos of the patio was after Abi died. First time I mopped the floor after Abi died. The first time I went out after Abi died.
Surely the firsts won’t last too long. Or spring into my mind as a reminder of my loss for too much longer.
I think back weeks ago to when she started wetting my bed. The urine was colorless, like water. It had no odor. I remember finding that so odd. But I had a bit of a premonition then, I think.
Watching Charlie Closely Now:
I watch Charlie, and if he exhibits any strange behaviors or changes in habit, it strikes fear in me. Then I tell myself that he is grieving too. But the mama in me is on high alert.
This morning I finally stripped my bed because I couldn’t bear to do it before. It was where Abi slept. I wore the same clothing for two days because I’d held my baby while she died with those clothes on.
Then my daughter came yesterday to take me to lunch, and I reached into my closet for something else to wear.
I hate that every time you come here, you end up reading about my sadness. I’m sorry for that. Writing is how I’ve always made sense of things. How I’ve come to terms with things.
I know they say that time heals all wounds. That the passing of time is balm for the soul.
I know that the odds are that I will feel joy again. That I will smile and laugh again with the passage of time.
I just don’t know when that will be.
We come here to hear what you are thinking and doing. Sad times and good.
We are here to listen and support you and Charlie. ❤️
Your grief is my grief. Again, I sit here reading your words with tears streaming down my cheeks. My tears for you, for Abi, for Charlie. For the loss of my own loved furry ‘children.’ Grief is harsh. Grief is needed. Sending love and wishing I could lessen your pain. Keep writing. You bring hope amidst the pain as you are a gifted writer.
Abi was a beautiful girl, and I mourn her loss with you. For those of us who have loved and loss our fur babies, we understand and share your gnawing grief. In time I hope your sweet memories will soothe your pain.
Allow yourself to grieve however you see fit. Write what you want to write, we will read it. We love your blog and you and grieve along with you and Charlie.
Brenda, there is no timeline for grief. Embrace it, along with the lovely memories you have of sweet Abi. I too know the pain of losing a beloved pet and it does take a piece of your heart with their passing, but it does get better each day. Please continue to express your grief in your writings and we all will cry and be there with you as your support. Spend time with that adorable grandson of yours and see the beauty in life and the simple things that will bring you comfort, peace and perhaps a little smile. Carol and Molly
Brenda, we all want to hear your feelings whether they be grief, sadness and joy such as the times you share with little Andrew. Your words are so comforting. All weekend when I look at my little Morkie I think of you and Abi. Her loss will never leave you but she will make you smile again one day when thinking of her.
My Mom and I were close before she passed away. I was wearing a green with thin black stripes dress the day I held her hand and told her it really was ok to let go – that I’d be fine and I would make sure Dad would be taken care of too. After that day I could never seem to want to wear that dress again – but I also could never let go and get rid of it. I still have it. This year will be the 22nd year since I heard her voice. I’m not sure what it all means – my hanging on to the dress and yet to never wear it again. I especially miss her today. Grief for our loved ones are different for each of us. You need to grieve the loss of your loved one however you find comfort. My heart goes out to you. It does get better with time – but I don’t think it ever really goes away. When you miss someone – you just miss them.
Brenda, I will add my voice to all of the others, please share your photos of Abi and your grief. It helps just a little to talk about her. It helped me tremendously to be able to talk about my memories of my Munchen and to know that other people who had never met her cared. We all feel your pain and would do whatever we could to lessen it. I wrapped my clothes and her blanket in a plastic bag and periodically I would open it to see if I could still smell her scent, weird to some but that little girl was my baby. I do not have children and Munchen was with me through the ups and downs for over 14 years and 10 months. I hope you go outside and take a big inhale of the beautiful scent that you described, life is short and you will not be able to smell it for another year.
Joy will come back.
Tears at the photos of sweet Abi. I am sincerely saddened by your loss. Your readers understand your grief and we are reading your posts and wishing you well. Cuddles to Charlie.
Just wanted to express my sadness over the loss of Abi. I’ve been reading all your notes since she started not feeling well and your trips to the vet. All the symptoms that were mentioned and the fact that she would not eat and would only drink small amts. reminded me of the time a family member also would not eat and drink. I was going to nursing school and upon talking to one of my instructors she walked me through trying to figure out why that was. I remember the family wanting him to sit at the table and eat with everyone but he would just become nauseated and had dry heaves. What I learned was that since the kidneys were not functioning normally the urine would back up in the body and after awhile everything would taste and smell like urine so that was why he was unable to eat. I would think this was probably why she couldn’t eat also. I’m not positive since Abi is a dog but it sounds reasonable to me. If this is the case then her passing as quickly and without too much pain was a blessing. It will still be a tremendous loss for you but may help in understanding of what was going on. You are in my prayers as you go through this trying time.
It’s good to talk about Abbi. She looks sad in those pictures. You tried so hard to save her. Again, so sorry. Hugs.
I enjoy your blog very much and love hearing about your pups. Your grief in losing Abi is much appreciated and understood by me as over the years I’ve held more than a few little dogs I loved as they crossed over. I believe they are waiting for us when it is our turn to make the journey.I also believe that the sorrow I feel when they die is made bearable by the pleasure and joy they’ve given me by being in my life. Thinking of you and wishing you comfort. Mary in Colorado
Everyone has said it so well that there’s no point in saying it again. I literally felt like I had a hole in my heart after I put my dog down. I still haven’t washed-or worn-the jacket I wore that day. I thought I was doing better after 6 months but had a relapse a few weeks ago. It takes time and everyone is different. Charlie is confused and grieving. Please stay strong for him. He needs you!
We are always here for you and share in your sorrow. Our world is not the same when this happens–there is a big hole in it. I looked at her photo and saw the love in her eyes for you. Reading the Comments, we have all been where you are and know how your heart hurts. Our thoughts and prayers are with you.
Grief, unfortunately, is a universal experience. So go ahead and express yourself. While you are talking about Abi, what you have written resonates with me and the loss of my parents, one, then three weeks later, the other. For other people, it will be other lives loved and lost. Grief is individual, yet a shared experience. It’s likely that everyone, in one way or another, knows how you feel, and wishes they could make you feel better.
Do not apologize for your grief or sadness. It is what it is and you are brave enough to share it with us. I know all too well the pits of hell with grief, as not only have I lost fur babies, too but I’ve experienced the worst loss and grief of all – the loss of a child. Yes, sometimes you don’t want to keep fighting and going on, but you have to. The only other choice is to stay in bed and curl up in a ball, and that’s not going to help in any way. So cry, write, sit and stare into space, love on Charlie, call your daughter, be with your daughter and granddaughter. I can promise you that you WILL feel happiness and joy again. It might not be for a week, a month, or several months – but it will come.
xoxo
Oh Brenda…..I’m so sorry his has happened in your life. Our animals become as important to us as out families….in fact….they often can become our family. We laid one of our sweet pups to rest a little over a year ago and we still miss her. I know we always will…..but it does become less painful with the passage of time.
xoxo
J
Mel-Remembering your tragic loss.
Wishing you love this Mother’s Day. Andrea
Brenda,
I am sure there isn’t one person expecting a happy post. Grief is so personal and we know that we cannot take away your pain, but we all want to lift you up with love and caring. I know you broke your own heart to give your sweet Abi peace, but I know you did not want her to suffer and for that I am positive Abi was so grateful.
Let yourself to whatever you need to do to live. Sending you hugs to you and Charlie!
Everyone has written beautiful, powerful words to you on this post ~ so I won’t repeat them.
Be gentle with yourself.
Hugs ~
It is normal and expected that you grieve. Grief actually serves a purpose to face a loss, to mourn and to cherish and celebrate the life you have lost. It is a sad part of accepting what has happened and coming to terms with it. It can help to do something in memory of Abi. Maybe plant something special in her memory or get a frame engraved in her memory to hold her picture. It is not so much what you do but that you do it in her memory. Just like a funeral helps us to come to terms with the loss of a family member or friend a special thing done in memory of Abi will help you. Charlie needs to grieve too but you can help him just as he can help you. Days will pass and hopefully before you know it you will be remembering all the happy times with Abi and you will be able to remember them with a smile and joy. She always brought you much joy and she would want to be able to continue to give you love and joy in her memories. I am so sorry for your loss Brenda. I wish I could help but know I care.
Bonnie
We love you because you are real, it is real that it will take time to come to terms with what has happened, it is real that we care how you and Charlie are doing. Please continue to let us know are you are really doing. Prayers and hugs.
I think it’s important to share your grief and grief needs to be what it is to “you”. It’s not a time to worry about meeting anyone else’s criteria on what grief “should be”.
Losing a beloved pet can be a trauma beyond words and a suffering all its own. If others cannot understand this then that difficulty is theirs, not yours.
Be grateful you could love this much for many cannot and I think that is a gift you possess rather than a fault to be addressed.
There is no easy way through these darkest of days Brenda.
Oh, Brenda, I understand. I could not bear to clean the storm door for months because it had my little dog’s nose prints on it. And you are right, you will feel joy again. But it will take time. I wish there was someway we could help you, but there is nothing we can do. We can let you know that we care about you; we are here for you. Even though we have never met you or Abi or Charlie, we consider you to be our dear friend. Please know your readers are thinking of you.
Brenda – I think most of us come here to share life with you – all of it, whatever it is you wish to share. Thinking of you during this sorrowful time –
That’s what I wanted to say….God made you so good with words that whatever you write helps us in our own lives. And we all want to help you through this terrible time, and we know that your writinging helps you, so please keep it up!!
Share your grief with us. There is strength in numbers and we are all here for you. Sending healing thoughts to to you.
We do share your pain, Brenda, and your need to express it. When Boo died the grief was so deep and the tears and sobbing came from a place I didn’t know existed in me. But it cleansed and began the healing I thought never could come. It took time. It took tears. It took more time. And even much later tears would reappear and the sadness would wash over me while in WalMart buying food for my remaining two furry friends or seeing a picture or remembering. And just missing his friendship, his spirit. And I chose to take comfort in believing that he was in a better, happier, healthier place and that I would one day see him again. But I missed him… I still miss him. There has been healing and growth; the sorrow is healed, but he is still missed.
Abi will always be a beautiful part of your life. Let the words and the tears flow, Brenda. And bit by bit the healing comes. We are here for you and understand.
Please write whatever you need to write . I remember some of those same things , from losing pets . If there is any way I can help please don’t hesitate to contact me . I remember what I was wearing the day my Polly dies I still remember her when I wear that sweatshirt jacket .
Grief is grief. No time frame no boundaries. Please share your grief with us. It is an emotion that is a god given instinct. Our fur babies are our families. I often say my Speckles is so excited to see me every day. Even if I just go out and get the mail. He is excited to “find” me again. Continue on with your grief and we will still be here. Share, share, share. we all need to hear someone else’s pain. It makes us human and when we listen to others it helps us to be of service to another.
Brenda, it takes time. I still mourn my Charlie Kitty but its easier as the years go by. No one can tell you how long or how to mourn the loss of your dear Abi. Know that we are all here for you and many have felt your pain and sorrow. I too took one last photo of Charlie before letting him go. I’ve never shared it since he was so sick and in pain, but I needed that photo for myself. Thank you for putting into such beautiful words the pain of loss and sorrow.
We DO want to read your grief. We are desperate to absorb your pain and send healing. To know how someone we love from afar is coping. You AND Charlie. We share the grief with you, for most all of us have walked these very steps of grief and for some of us, many many times over. It’s just as searing each time be cause we loves them all THAT much. We would be far more frightened to not read your sadness Brenda. Thank you for letting us in, for allowing us to grieve alongside of you and to continue to reach out and offer support as you make it through these unbelievably sad days. Love, Marcia