I hate this. If I have to tell my sweet little boy that ONE MORE person or animal that he loves has died, I'm gonna fuckin' lose it. Seriously.... NO 7 year old should be so well-versed on the topics of death and grief.
When we got home from school and I realized that I needed to take Shyla in as quickly as possible, I was very lucky that Rory and Leilei busied themselves playing, so I was able to get her ready. I didn't want to tell him what was going on and then have to leave him. I got her snuggled up in some blankies in the carrier... she gave me 2 little meows. On a normal day, she'd have been wailing. She HATED being in the carrier. As soon as Finn got home, I warmed up the car for her and we were off. It's about 20 minutes to the emergency vet. As I got her out of the car, I felt her seizing in the carrier. I walked in and told them I wasn't sure if she was still with us. She was not. My little girl decided that it was time. I'm so glad that she made the decision... at least she didn't have to get stuck with an IV. They brought her to me in a private room and I spent about a half hour holding her, petting her and telling her how much I loved her. I sobbed and sobbed... my heart is broken.
If you're not an animal person you might think this sounds stupid, but that cat saved my life on more occasions than I can count. It started when I first got her... I was so devastated over losing my sweet Gram, and Shyla gave me reasons to laugh and smile again. She was such a funny little kitten... when she got mad she completely flattened out her ears. I've never had a cat before or since who did that quite like she did. It was hilarious. Over the next few years, David was at sea almost constantly. I was desperately lonely and homesick. I went to work and went home. That's it. I didn't know anyone. That girl, along with my Sheba and Shelby, kept me company, made me laugh, and gave me something to look forward to every day. That continued as I became a mom. People often tell you that as soon as your first baby is born, you'll no longer give a shit about your pets. Not in my case. I even sent home some receiving blankets that Reilly had used in the hospital... I wanted them to get used to his scent before we even brought him home. Shyla was constantly getting up on the changing table or hopping into the crib with Baby Reilly. It made my mom CRAZY! But Shy Shy just wanted to be a Mommy cat... it was very sweet.
Her unwavering love continued as we moved to Virginia. I was again, horrendously lonely, sad and homesick. But luckily, I had my girl sleeping in my arms or wrapped around my neck like a boa every night. She loved Rory from the very first second he came home. She actually 'got over' Reilly pretty quickly, but she and Rory had something special... right up until the end. Then I got terribly sick and spent 4 months almost completely in bed. She NEVER left my side. She'd pretty much always been my cat, but whan David got sick, she started tending to him. He was in bed more than he was out of it for 14 straight months, and she was laying on his shoulder every minute.
And then he left. My Shyla stayed in my arms as I cried for weeks on end, and she did it again when he died. We were always very in tune with each other. She knew when I really needed her, and she was always there. She also let me know when she needed me. She was this TINY little cat, but she had a HUGE meow. She would stand on my bed and call me... over and over until I came up to be with her. Crazy cat. She also did that at night if she was ready to go to bed and I was staying up too late for her taste. It was like she was saying, "Mommy.... come ON!!! I wanna get in bed and snuggle!"
I really feel like she waited for me yesterday. I hated leaving her in the morning, but she knew I'd be back, so she waited to say goodbye.
As soon as I got home, Rory told me he couldn't find Shyla and wanted to know where she was. I said, "she's in heaven with Daddy, honey", and he fell to pieces. My poor little peanut. When we got in bed, we spent a long time talking about Shyla and telling funny stories about her. We laughed, but we cried too. Then he started to list everyone that he misses... "I miss Daddy... I miss Maxi... I miss Sheba and Shelby, and I really miss Zoe." And my heart broke a little bit more.
Coincidentally, I just got word yesterday that the boys had come off the wait list and been accepted for a weekend long bereavement camp in February. It couldn't have come at a better time. The group is called Comfort Zone and like Camp Kesem, they exist solely on donations. Please check them out at www.comfortzonecamp.org .
I guess I'd better try to do something productive. I'd really rather go back to bed. I'm completely drained... emotionally exhausted. I'm SO over this whole fucking death thing.
S
Trying to survive and thrive, through the most difficult time in my life.
Welcome!
So here's the Reader's Digest version for those of you who are new to my blog.... My 39 year old husband, David, was diagnosed with a hideous and deadly cancer in April of '08. We were told he'd likely die in less than 4 months. Obviously, that diagnosis turned us inside out and shook us to the core. At the time, our boys were 12 and 4... can you say 'fucking nightmare'??? I spent the next 14 months being his 24/7 caregiver and advocate... never leaving his side unless it was to get the boys to or from therapy or their cancer support groups. Cancer and the hell that it brings became our universe. And yet, I was able to get myself to a place where I was depending on my faith.... existing on a plane of pure gratitude. I focused my energies on recognizing the blessings that cancer had brought to our lives... yes, there ARE blessings that come with such a dire diagnosis.
Things were good. David miraculously entered remission in April of '09. I was looking forward to the next few months being our 'summer of healing' as a family. And then my world stopped. He left me... left US... on 6 June 2009. And FYI... he told me he was ending our 18 year marriage in a note. As if that wasn't bad enough, he had left me for a 'friend' who also happened to be married. Nice. The next few months are a blur... I descended into a deep, dark depression, and David's vicious treatment of me didn't help. He was running as fast as he could from everything associated with cancer, and that included me... our family, our home and the entire life we had built together. Things went from bad to worse when his cancer returned with a vengeance. He began treatment once again, and I had to dig deep to help him and make things as easy on him as possible. I even offered to have him move home so I could care for him through his treatment. As it turns out, it was a good thing he didn't take me up on that. The hateful way that he treated me during that time would have made caregiving for him an unbearable situation. I KNEW he was dying... nobody else did, because he fed them all kinds of bullshit... but I knew. Because of that, I focused on the boys and made sure they were with their daddy as much as possible.
His final months were a living nightmare... a kind of pain and darkness for which there are no words. No human being, no matter who they are or how they lived their lives, should have to suffer the horrific pain and endless indignities that David did. In spite of everything, I was with him constantly, much to the chagrin of his girlfriend and his mother. 'Too fuckin bad' was my theory. I wanted my boys to see that I NEVER turned my back on their dad. And I didn't. I continued to advocate for him in the hospital... fighting to get him the meds and the specialists he needed. I was there during his final moments of consciousness. I took Reilly to say goodbye to his dad, just before he slipped into that state. I was there when he died. I ID'd his body at the funeral home. I planned his funeral and his Celebration of Life. I placed his ashes in the wall of the Columbarium at the Naval Academy. We had spent half of our lives together, and though I was no longer in love with him, I did those things out of respect for the life that we shared and the family that we created.The 6 months since he died have brought more changes. I struggle daily to untangle the financial disaster he left me, and I'm fighting like hell to keep our home. The boys are now 15 and 7 and trying to learn how to move forward in their lives without their daddy. I had to get a part-time job after spending 15 years as a full-time mother, and I'm doing everything I can to trim the fat so we can afford to stay where we are. My boys NEED the stability and comfort that come with remaining in our home and community, and staying in their schools. To that end, I will fight with every fiber of my soul to ensure that those things happen.My greatest blessing is that I now have an incredible man in my life... a man who is thoughtful and loving, strong and sensitive, hilariously funny, and who loves me just the way I am. He is authentic. He knows who he is and is completely comfortable in his own skin. It certainly doesn't hurt that he's 11 years younger than I am and sexy as hell. :0)Yes, my boys are struggling in many ways... the therapy and support groups continue... and I still have MUCHO 'death business' to handle. That said, I am starting to believe that there might be a happy future ahead... for all of us.The past almost 3 years have been quite an emotional roller coaster, to say the least. Writing has been the most important part of my day, every day, since this journey began. I am once again being put in a position where I have to learn to survive... spiritually, emotionally, physically, financially... you get the picture. My hope is that I can hold on to my faith, find a moment of joy in every day, be the best mother I can possibly be, and hopefully... one day... emerge back into the light.December 2010
13 January 2011
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Like you, my furry babies continued to be my babies even after my kids were born. Losing Kona was horrible for the kids too. They still talk about her. Davis is such a different dog that they never compared the two. We went to Michaels and bought a stone making kit and the kids decorated it. We burried Kona's collar under it in the backyard. Its a special spot :)
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So sorry to hear about yet another loss for your family, Shan. As an animal lover, I can very much relate to how sad you feel over your it. I LOVE my animals so much but sometimes it scares me thinking ahead to the day we will lose them. Inevitably, it happens and it's awful :( I can remember all the way back to my first loss of a pet when I was a little girl. Appropriately, her name was Angel and she was the most BEAUTIFUL kitten! I was about 7 or 8 and it was the first time I ever saw my dad cry. It never gets easier :(
ReplyDeleteJust want you to know that I'm thinking of you and the boys.
Lots of love,
Bonnie
Yes, I remember. Hee. How the hell do you you remember?? Oh ya, I'm talkin' to a girl that remembers her whole wardrobe form sophmore year. And, it is true I am a gianormmous marshmallow on the inside. Don't spread it around, I do have a reputation as an idiot blowhard to keep up. So let me tell you, I am on "belly-rubbing duty" from um, let's see, 5 minutes after I get home until I fall asleep. Little snoongees. Enough about me, you take care of yourself. Snuggle up with Finn and watch some t.v.........L. To
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