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  1. Hello, I don’t really know how to begin, or what to say. I’ve never felt anything like this, in my life, and I am a sensitive and emotional person, in the first place. This pain is almost immeasurable, it feels surreal. Last Tuesday, my soul mate died, and I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I absolutely hate myself, the guilt is killing me, and I just wish that I could be with her, again, and spend eternity with her, because the thought of death with her is so much better than the thought of living without her. Cleo was 19 when she died. She lived a long life, filled with love. She was the most beautiful, loving, and sensitive cat, I have ever known. She was perfect, and unique, and all her quirks that irritated others, just made me love her all the more. She was basically a self-imposed house cat. Despite constant access to the outdoors, she preferred to go out only with human company. Mostly mine. She was a family cat, but everyone knew that mine and Cleo’s love was like no other. I was her favourite, and she is mine, above all others. We had a bond and connection to each other, that I cannot even begin to think of describing with words, alone. It was just.. she was, and is, part of me. We understood each other. I didn’t look at her as a cat; she was Cleo. A beautiful, gorgeous, loving, radiant, hilarious, adorable, chubby, sensitive, warm spirit, that changed my life. I could never bring myself to fully contemplate what would happen when she died, but I never imagined that I wouldn’t be there for her. Last December, I moved to Denmark to be with my Danish boyfriend, since, fiancé. With Cleo’s advancing age in mind, her well-managed chronic kidney disease, and her nervous and sensitive disposition, particularly to change, it would have been cruel to ask her to endure any kind of relocation, let alone to Denmark. From apparent stress, she once lost all the fur on her bottom half, making it appear as though she’d forgotten to put on her trousers, which was equally the most adorable and upsetting thing to see. She was just so beautifully sensitive. I wasn’t going to put her through any kind of upset, if at all possible. She would be more comfortable, secure, and safe within the walls and garden of her lifelong home, with my parents to look after her. Every day, I carried a sense of guilt that I had left her behind. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do. She was, and is, my one love, my light, my soul mate. There were nights where my fiancé had to rock me like a baby, as I sobbed desperately in his arms, over the distance I had created between Cleo and I. I just wanted to be with her, for her to be with me, for me to be with her. It broke my heart, every day. I would gaze lovingly at the framed photo I have of her, I would speak to her on FaceTime when contacting my parents, but it just wasn’t enough. I had seen her for three weeks in April, and for one week in the middle of August, and each time, it was increasingly impossible to leave her. Yet, leave I did. Last Tuesday, I received a FaceTime call from my Dad. It was odd that the call came through, considering my iPad was locked and set to 'do not disturb'. In some way, I feel like it was Cleo and our love that allowed the call to come through. Furthermore, the day before, I had heard a cat meow outside the doors to the flats. It wasn’t Cleo’s meow, but it was a meow. I looked outside, and there was nothing there. I wonder if, in some way, this, too, was a sign. The call was to carry the news I never wished or hoped to hear. The darkest day in my life had arrived. She was fading rapidly, she could no longer move the back half of her body, she could not and would not eat or drink, despite efforts to hydrate her using a syringe, she just could not do it. My heart broke irreparably in that very second. I am so grateful to my parents for including me as much as they physically could, for giving me the chance to say goodbye in the only way possible, given the circumstances. They warned me that she was to be taken to the vets, and that it was highly likely she would not come home, alive. I mustered up everything within me to whistle her favourite songs. She was always so responsive to whistling, and she was a Disney girl at heart. In the last couple of years, as her health changed, she took little interest in these songs. However, as I sat there, tears streaming, breath unsteady, I was able to give my rendition of 'Part of Your World'. She had been unresponsive for hours, and yet.. she was trying to lift up her head.. the twinkle of recognition palpable, despite her being near lifeless. My Dad couldn’t believe it. That moment means the absolute universe, to me. Next, I tried 'Colors of the Wind', but my sobs made it near impossible. It was the greatest joy to be able to give her that gift, and for her to know it was from me. I sent all my love to her, I spoke to her in loving, yet undeniably heartbroken, tones, I said everything I could think to say, all the verbal tokens of love that I had always said. But it just wasn’t enough. I asked my Dad to stroke her as I said them, to give her the kiss that I would have given, though I would not have been able to stop kissing her. I even tried to stroke the screen, as if she would feel my fingers on her skin. At one point, she was miraculously able to lift herself up to see the screen, and I have never seen anything like it, in my life. It absolutely shatters my whole existence. It is the most beautiful and heart wrenching thing, I have ever seen. That face.., she looked so different in that moment, I have never seen her look like that, before, those eyes... so large, so close to death, and so full of life and love. It’s too much. It’s too beautiful. Given the circumstances, and with eternal thanks to my parents, I did all that I could. But it wasn’t enough. I will never get to hear her, see her, smell her, hold her, kiss her, touch her, laugh with her, lie with her, whistle for her, feel her love and envelope her in mine, ever again.. . I couldn’t hold her paw, as my dad did for me, as she died, I couldn’t be there for the funeral. I will never be with her, again, not on earth, and it is breaking me. I am completely overcome with grief, and guilt. The guilt is corroding my heart, I have a constant physical pain. I feel as though I left her, abandoned her... that she must have hated me, she can’t have known why I wasn’t there. All she knows is that I wasn’t there when she needed me the most. I absolutely despise myself. I honestly feel like the worst human being who has ever lived. I should have never moved to Denmark, I should have waited until she had gone, because I knew she was old, and I knew she had an illness. I am disgusting. I keep begging her to forgive me, but I know I don’t deserve it. I keep saying sorry, I keep hoping she will show me, in some way, that she is okay. In the early hours of Monday morning, I felt a warmth between my legs as I lay cross-legged, and as I sat up, I felt as though I was able to pick up this warmth, and cradle it. I am almost convinced it was my mind trying to create some sort of comfort, but there is part of me that feels as though it was my Cleo, and just in case it was, I spoke to her. I said everything I wanted to say, and afterwards, I felt a coolness pass over my face. I noticed a shift in me, in that moment, which brought me some relief. But since then, I have completely relapsed into a suicidal state. I have panic attacks from the grief, and when I’m not crying, I just exist in a black hole of misery. I will never be able to forgive myself or live with myself for leaving my baby. It has been especially difficult, as my fiancé is currently working offshore, so I have had to experience this, alone. He has been amazing, through Skype calls, and he has written me the most beautiful words to try and help me see things in a different way. I couldn’t have asked for more support. My parents, who can sometimes be emotionally distant, have been wonderful, and have, obviously, been greatly touched by her death, also. I am doing as much research as I can, I have created online photo albums, made videos from the photos, I listen to her favourite song, I have gathered a few momentos to comfort myself as I try to sleep. Luckily, I have a blanket with me that she slept on, many times, which I have been holding at night. My fiancé made the suggestion that we hold a memorial when he is back, and find a lovely spot to place some memories. I am planning on framing more photos, and painting a picture of her, as I have in the past, and getting some items printed using photos of her, such as a cushion cover, and iPad case. Also, I am planning to crochet a little toy to represent her. When I spoke to Cleo for the last time, I made suggestions of items we could keep with her, such as a bib I had crocheted for her as a little joke, which she surprisingly enjoyed, a kitchen sponge, as she used to frequently 'murder' them, and call to let us know what a vicious killer she was, an Autumn leaf, as she used to mercilessly kill these, too. Some daisies, as we used to play and make chains with them, a tea bag, as she used to love finishing off a cup of tea using her paw, and other little knickknacks that speak of her personality, and our time together. I feel like all these things should add up to some way of coping, but I cannot cope. The guilt is killing me. I need to somehow atone for my disgraceful behaviour. I have begun looking at cat rescue centres. We are planning to move to a flat that allows pets, and, knowing that I will be able to give an adult cat with a hard life a home and the love it deserves, does help, somewhat. But my Cleo. I left her, and I never wanted to, I never intended to. Yet, I did. I truly am a monster, I don’t know how to live with this feeling. I would infinitely rather be with her than live without her. I apologise for the essay I’ve written.. I doubt many people will want to read it.. but for those of you that do, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and wish you all the best on your own journeys to recovery after losing our best friends and soul mates.
  2. Feeling guilt

    I lost my cat, Tumbles on November 7th 2017. It will be one week tomorrow. Now that the shock has settled in, I am starting to feel guilt. For quite some time. Tumbles would throw up every now and then. I worried, but my boyfriend, who also has cats of his own, assured me he probably ate too quick or maybe change his food bc he might not like it. So I relaxed a little, and told myself if he showed other signs I will take him to the vet. Well, he didn’t. But I started to smell something weird in my bedroom. I cleaned, mopped, and eventually found cat poop and assumed maybe one of my kitties ( I have two) accidentally brought it in with them from the litter box bc it’s right outside my room. August 2017 however, I was getting ready for a wedding, and I saw Tumbles poop in my room. Because I was anxious about running late, I freaked out, but later of course hugged him to show I wasn’t mad. It was then that month that I took him to the vet only to realize he had Jaudice. the vet prescribed medication, steroids and assured us it’s possible he could be cured. But he did end up passing away last week. i tried everything I could, but I feel guilty for not helping him sooner. I did everything, spend so much money in the end and was by his side constantly, I’m not just regretting what I didn’t do :/
  3. Hi, My mum died about 6 months ago quite suddenly and I feel like it's my fault. My mum had mental health issues and would drink when it got very bad, and one night I came home and she was drunk and having issues. She went to bed to sleep it off and I went downstairs to watch television. Usually my mum would get u a couple times throughout sleeping to go to the bathroom and I'd hear her walking the landing, but that didn't happen this time. I realise a few hours after she went to bed she was being quiet and I thought that was strange (and I can't remember if I thought "what if something is wrong") but I didn't do anything, didn't go check, just went back to doing whatever I was doing downstairs. Later my dad came home (he had been home earlier and helped my mum to bed) and had something to eat and then went to check on my mum because he thought she was being quiet (not walking on the landing etc) too and when he went to check she had passed away in her sleep. I feel bad. I feel awful. I feel like it is my fault for not checking on her, especially if I did have the thought "what if something is wrong" though I can't remember if I did think that. What if I had checked and she had still been alive and I could have helped her? I literally thought it was weird she was quiet but didn't do anything. I don't know what to do now. I'll never know so I'll never be okay with it I guess. What do I do?
  4. My Dad died a year ago on my birthday. It was very hard on me, because we were very close and like minded, and I had to take him off of life support. It took 6 months for me to stop spontaneously crying. Yesterday was the one year mark. I feel like my heart has shattered all over again. I'm angry, broken, and lost. I tried to rely on my fiancee, but he has proven to be...unreliable. My mom relies on me for everything now, and I have to be her rock. It feels like the world is caving in around me, and I don't know what to do.
  5. My oldest sister passed away

    My oldest sister passed away 10 months ago from cancer & the effects of chemotherapy. My whole family is struggling, & so am I. Of course, we pray, as we are Christians. Has anyone joined a group for grief support (not online, in person)? I have been unable to join one yet due to social anxiety & depression. Nearly everyone seems to have forgotten that we are living with this terrible loss. It is so hard, living without our precious sister & second mother. I am glad she isn't suffering terribly anymore, because she really suffered tremendously. I just miss her so much! I feel guilty for yelling at her a few times when I was trying to help care for her, though I was very stressed & exhausted. I should never have yelled at my wonderful sister, who was so sick. I am angry at myself, honestly mad sometimes at God for letting her die, & possibly angry at my sister for not getting to the doctor sooner. Thank you to any who have gone to group therapy for grief support who can tell me if it has helped. May God bless & comfort all on here!
  6. It's been almost 3 months since I lost my mom. Everybody keeps telling me to be patient, to let time heal, but things are just getting worse for me. And I've tried to cope with it, but it just keeps coming back. I'm more a spiritual than religious type of person and I'm seeing a shaman. I've been working with her, it's better at times, but there are days when I just feel I can't go on. My mother was my best friend, my sister, my soulmate, my all. She was my rock, the person to which I turned to every time, the person who gave me strength, the only person to whom I gave all the love I was capable of. I found out that she had cancer in January, when it was already too late and I decided to not tell her immediately because I was afraid. She believed that once one gets cancer, there is no escape from dying and she was also a person who, once she had her mind set to something, that thing would happen. So I wanted to try to keep her in a positive mindset for as long as I could. It was the first time I lied to her sincer I was a kid. After a while, it got out, I told her a part of it and things started getting worse. Afterwards, I told her everything and in about 2 weeks, she died. I blame myself for taking this route but I don't know if I would have done it the other way around, I don't know if things would have been better if I would have told her from the start. But the most awful thing is that the last two months were filled with anger and a lot of disputes. Meaning exactly the opposite from how we were before. And this just kills me. I was trying to explain that all cancers have also emotional causes and that she should change, that she should think more about herself (my mom always thought about before thinking what's best for her), that she should try solving those issues. And she was asking me to be patient, because maybe we have time, and I was not because I was desperate and afraid and I knew that time mattered. And from this we always started to quarrel. I don't have regrets when it comes to my relationship with my mom, but I have a lot of regrets related to the last period spent with my mom. I could have just shut up and not try to tell her what I think she should do, I could have just renounced trying to change her. I had faith she would get better until the end, I was trying also in the few hours in which she was in a coma. Because I just couldn't stop. But I don't know how to live with myself knowing that the last months with my mom where how they where, that I didn't offer her the understanding and the support that she needed. Because I think that in the last period she wanted to be left alone, to die. My mom was always there for me, she knew how to cheer me up, she knew how to support me, she knew what to say to make it all better. She was always there when I needed her, when I was sick, she always made me better or knew what to do or where to take me to solve the problem. She always figured out a solution and I didn't when it came to her needing me. I couldn't save my mom and offer her what she needed, when it was my turn to do it. And I just don't know how I can get used to living with this. Does someone here have a piece of advice? Thank you and I really hope that somehow, each and every person here will find his or her peace.
  7. My mom was a hypocondriac. She asked me about all sorts of things, related to disease. Her main concerns where diabetes, blood cluts, heart failure. Whenever i talked with her, she would feel the need to talk about her concerns. She wouldent let it go, untill i listened. When she came by, she wanted me to look at things on her skin. She pressured me to look at it, for several times. When i said i couldent stand it anymore, she would just keep showing it. Look, don't it look like something serious, she would say. The weekend before she died, she sounded serious. Like she really was concerned about her health. But then again, she was a hypocondriac i thought. They really are concerned all the time. It's not a joke to them. She kept going on and on, about i really think i am dying. I think something is wrong with my heart. Please listen. I thought it was a new strategy to pressure me, to listen. She said something similar before, but in a different tone. In the past she sounded frightened. This time, frightened, but calm. I was so tired of listening, i just finally said. If you really think so, maybe it could be this time. Maybe you in fact should get it checked out. She asked me once (i can't remember if it was before or after the conversation above) if i would go with her to the doctor. She rarely asked me that, so i was a bit concerned. I was so tired of her, i just said. Is it really somehting this time? Don't you think you just need to relax? She was scared of doctors. We went once many years ago to the emergency room, where she was convinced she was dying. They checked her out, and said she was fine. They told her it was anxiety. I was used to her having axiety. Both panic attacks and servere anxiety about her health. I talked with her about the anxiety, and all the stress, maybe could cause all of these symptoms she had. I didden't know which symptoms i should take seriously, because she would read about them online, untill she suddenly convinced herself that she had the symptoms. Are the symptoms real or imagination or anxiety? i thought. The days after, she kept going on talking about symptoms, and i got annoyed and hung up the phone. The day before she died, she got mad at me and wouldent pick up the phone. I got a bad feeling, where is was a 100 pct. convinced she would die the next day. I told myself. Just stop it. Your mind is sick from anxiety, from constant worrying if she would actually die all the time. Then i thought it was a healthy sign, that she kept holdning on to her anger toward me. If she really was that ill, which i suddenly was concerned about. She couldent continue to be so angry i thought. I thought about pcking up the phone. The strongest feeling i ever had, told me to text her. You are going to die tomorrow, if you dont act. I never thought about texting anything like that ever before. Then i thought. Why would she die so suddenly? I can talk to her tomorrow and tell her how i feel. She always said, tell me if you get a bad feeling that i will die. I didden't, because i ignored my bad feelings. Why would she die? she was oly 51. I keep thinking about i had that strong feeling, like never before that she would die and i diddent act. WHY??? WHY diddent i listen to her, when in fact i was concerned?
  8. My mom was a hypocondriac. She asked me about all sorts of things, related to disease. Her main concerns where diabetes, blood cluts, heart failure. Whenever i talked with her, she would feel the need to talk about her concerns. She wouldent let it go, untill i listened. When she came by, she wanted me to look at things on her skin. She pressured me to look at it, for several times. When i said i couldent stand it anymore, she would just keep showing it. Look, don't it look like something serious, she would say. The weekend before she died, she sounded serious. Like she really was concerned about her health. But then again, she was a hypocondriac i thought. They really are concerned all the time. It's not a joke to them. She kept going on and on, about i really think i am dying. I think something is wrong with my heart. Please listen. I thought it was a new strategy to pressure me, to listen. She said something similar before, but in a different tone. In the past she sounded frightened. This time, frightened, but calm. I was so tired of listening, i just finally said. If you really think so, maybe it could be this time. Maybe you in fact should get it checked out. She asked me once (i can't remember if it was before or after the conversation above) if i would go with her to the doctor. She rarely asked me that, so i was a bit concerned. I was so tired of her, i just said. Is it really somehting this time? Don't you think you just need to relax? She was scared of doctors. We went once many years ago to the emergency room, where she was convinced she was dying. They checked her out, and said she was fine. They told her it was anxiety. I was used to her having axiety. Both panic attacks and servere anxiety about her health. I talked with her about the anxiety, and all the stress, maybe could cause all of these symptoms she had. I didden't know which symptoms i should take seriously, because she would read about them online, untill she suddenly convinced herself that she had the symptoms. Are the symptoms real or imagination or anxiety? i thought. The days after, she kept going on talking about symptoms, and i got annoyed and hung up the phone. The day before she died, she got mad at me and wouldent pick up the phone. I got a bad feeling, where is was a 100 pct. convinced she would die the next day. I told myself. Just stop it. Your mind is sick from anxiety, from constant worrying if she would actually die all the time. Then i thought it was a healthy sign, that she kept holdning on to her anger toward me. If she really was that ill, which i suddenly was concerned about. She couldent continue to be so angry i thought. I thought about pcking up the phone. The strongest feeling i ever had, told me to text her. You are going to die tomorrow, if you dont act. I never thought about texting anything like that ever before. Then i thought. Why would she die so suddenly? I can talk to her tomorrow and tell her how i feel. She always said, tell me if you get a bad feeling that i will die. I didden't, because i ignored my bad feelings. Why would she die? she was oly 51. I keep thinking about i had that strong feeling, like never before that she would die and i diddent act. WHY??? WHY diddent i listen to her, when in fact i was concerned?
  9. My poor cat died a few days ago and I feel so guilty. He was my first ever pet and I loved him so much. The worst thing was he died in the cattery while I was on holiday so I don't feel like I even got to say goodbye to him. I hadn't realised that he was ill so this has come as a great shock to me and I'm struggling to come to terms with him not being here with me as he was a very cuddly cat who was always by my side when he wasn't out playing. In hindsight I feel I should have realised that he was ill, but he didn't seem to be acting too much out of character and was his usual cuddly self. I just can't stop feeling guilty and wishing he was still here with me and that I could have done more for him. I hope he knew how much I loved him and didn't think I'd abandoned him.
  10. To anyone who reads this, thank you for taking the time to do so. It has been over a year since mum died, yet today was one the worst days yet. In the early afternoon, while working on materials for class - I teach adults in the evening - I started getting so angry. For some reason the computer kept printing the non-cropped version of a document, and I couldn't figure out why. Time was getting away, stress levels were rising, and I could see I'd barely have enough time to iron a shirt for work. Later, when I was finally able to do that, something happened. Can't remember what it was now, but I lost it. Threw anything I could get my hands on across the room, and then was consumed by guilt and self-loathing. I actually beat myself with my fists, and finally started weeping. I retreated to my bed where I wept and cried out to God, "When are you going to start helping me?". Repeatedly I screamed silently, my body totally rigid, and then screamed into my pillow, using it to muffle the sound. It was a close run thing, but finally I pulled myself together and went to work, making it there just in time to start class. First ten minutes or so was extremely hard, but after that, thank goodness, disassociation set in and the rest of the night went well. At the end of the evening, when a student was asking me questions, I realized that I didn't want them to stop, didn't want them to leave, because then I knew I'd have to face it all again. Sure enough, by the time I got home, the feeling of grief was overwhelming again. I called a friend, talked for a while, but then suddenly couldn't handle it anymore, just had to get off the phone. It was like a heavy weight was pulling me down into the earth, and I just couldn't do it, couldn't talk anymore. I couldn't give anymore, react in ways that conversations require. It was like an anxiety attack, I could feel panic growing within me, a growing urgency to get off that phone. No idea why. It feels like life is over for me. These days I don't want to do anything, or go anywhere, just work because I have to - and need to - and the rest of the time stay home with the world locked out. I have the phone turned to silent all the time, I can't remember the last time I answered it. I use an answering machine to screen calls, just in case there's a call I can't ignore. When I'm not working, I'll turn off my mobile phone so I don't have to deal with that either. Last few days I've been sleeping longer, but unfortunately not getting to sleep until around 3am, which of course means waking up around midday and having little time for marking student writing, lesson preparation etc. And I seem to feel more tired when I wake up than when I went to sleep. Writing is becoming more difficult now, long pauses in between sentences. There's a growing sense of inertia within me. Increasingly, I find myself just sitting here, staring into the distance, not actually seeing anything, feeling like I could do so forever, and never move again. Going to force myself to look at some student writing in the hopes it will distract me, tire me, and that as a result I'll soon go to bed. As before, I'm not asking for anyone to make me feel better - an impossibility as far as I'm concerned. There's nothing anyone can do. I just appreciate you being there. Thank you again for reading. Take care, David.
  11. Hi all, I'm new to this site, and not entirely sure how it works, but I hope it is a chance to share and learn from others. I'm a 28 year old male working abroad. A few months ago I learned by email that the police had found my mother dead inside our house (we live in the countryside of upstate NY). She had been living alone for several months. She spent her share of her retirement money in a matter of months (she was 59) and no longer had any money to pay for electricity. As the winter months began, with no electricity she was unable to heat the house, and she died of hypothermia. The police found her after a neighbor noticed little activity coming from the house for several weeks. My parents had recently divorced after my mother, who had been on medication for bipolarism/manic depression, suddenly refused to take her medication anymore. From what I understand, life at home became horrible for my father, and he was eventually forced out of the home after my mother made a false claim to the police that he had raped her. She took half of the retirement money and spent it all in a matter of months on installing new lockable windows and barricading the driveway. She also bought new furniture and an expensive lamp. As time went on she refused any help from anyone, and when my parents divorced in August, she was really on her own. The last time I spoke to her was last April, on the phone. She really wanted me to come home for the summer and offered to pick me up. I did not give a clear answer. I was so concerned about her ability to take care of herself, but I was also afraid if what she might do to me if I came home. With so much instability and danger in that situation, I decided to not come home for the summer. That was the last conversation I had with my mother. The last time I saw her was December 1.5 years ago, being driven away by the police to a hospital where she would get examined for rape. I thought a lot about calling her again to check in, but I wanted to distance myself from the crazy family situation. When the electricity got caught off in September, I suppose there would have been no way to contact her, as the phone would not have worked. I overall feel little towards the death of my mother except guilt, sadness for her wasted life, and wonder at the idea that someone who was once breathing and talking is now a pile of ash (her body was cremated). I haven't cried yet. I don't know if I'm repressing feeling, or if I genuinely feel nothing. It's still hard for me to believe that this even happened.
  12. A week or so before my Dad's death (November 2016) I had a huge argument with him, because he said I didn't respect him and I told him I didn't because of how he had treated me earlier in the year when I told him I had anxiety. I called him a coward for not talking to me about it, he said I wasn't part of the family. He was in the worst stages of his liver cancer. He cringed in pain as I shouted at him saying he was a coward for not being able to talk to me and he said I would regret this moment when I saw him being buried in a coffin and preceded to walk upstairs and say he didn't know how he could give birth to something so evil. Around the time my Dad was diagnosed with cancer, the very beginning of 2016, was when I told him about my anxiety and he (quite understandably) rejected it and said it was nothing (which is in fact right, who gives a **** about anxiety, he told me to forget about it, the very cure to anxiety in fact). But after that I hated him for the rest of the year, all throughout his chemo and travels to India for further chemo, I ignored him and resented him. I spent as little time with him as possible, I focused on other things such as my future, thinking if my Dad doesn't care about me I'll at least care about myself. My Dad has always been my God. But this last year all I've felt is hate. I numbed myself completely, I haven't felt any real emotion in months - really years. Now I hate myself. There is no way I can recover from this. My Dad died hating me and being ashamed of me. I can't move on from this.
  13. Hello everyone, I lost our beautiful mum on the 4th of Oct 2016. It all started suddenly with fever, 103.6 degrees, nausea, diarrhoea after that she did not pass Urine for a day or bowel movement. She was totally fine except type two diabetes and hypotension. We were in India at that time and unfortunately there was a dengue and chucungunya epidemic. We went to family doctor he didn't order bloods and by symptom he told us it sss chucungunya which my aunt recently had.!she had a real bad joint pain also which is a symptom. On the fourth day she started getting worse and had a severe abdominal pain and was short of breath. She did t want to go to the doctor or in emergency. She was so bad that she could not move we finally called the ambulance who took her to hospital. The local doctor ordered tests on day four and everything was OK according to him and he now said it was a viral and the only issue was low platelet count. She had stopped eating and drinking water by day 4 -!; 5. When we reached hospital they said her platelet count was dangerously low 95,000 they ran tests and said her creatinine and potassium were sky high which meant her kidneys had failed they were only working10%. They said this was due to some infection but it'd take time to figure out until then she was put on anibiotics inserted a catheter to mesusrd Urine output and was given meds and food through pipes in her neck. The only was to purify her blood was through dialysis. On second day X ray came and they said she had air leaking out of her Intestine. Even when we reached hospital they did tell us she was really really sick, her kidneys were bad transplant was not an option as she was I poor health. They did emergency surgery to fix air in the intestine and discovered she had a bowel perforation (peritonitis) The surgeon told us her chance of survival with surgery was 10% and without surgery she'd not make it either it was 0%. They removed infected part of large I testing, found 1 litre of pus which they removed and put a temporary STOMA in her tummy. My poor mum was unconscious she didn't know what was going on at all! So we consented. Surgery went fine and st night she was stable but they put her on non invasive ventilator to help her lungs and heart and so she could sleep. In the morning, we were told her blood pressure had dropped to a dangerously low point. They gave her all meds to pump it up but nothing working she was in SEPTIC SHOCK now, around 5 pm it was almost ok she was maintaining around 90 but after that it suddenly Dropped further. They called us from ICU and said the last resort was a blood transfusion and if that didn't elevate her BP she would not make it. They tried this but it had no effect on her blood, eventually after a three day struggle at hospital and a living nightmare she passed away, I could not take the sight of her monitor and her vitals dropping anymore I went out, I told her how much I loved her but I don't think she heard me, I just didn't have the courage to stay with her until her last breath she was on ventilator and her vitals kept dropping until her pulse showed 0.. I let my father and her brother stay as only two people were allowed, it haunts me to think that perhaps she was looking for me and my brother and we were not present when she was counting her last breaths. this was the worst day of my life, I would do anything to bring her back but I think I failed as a daughter whom she always trusted blindly, I told her she would get better but she did not. I should have been more proactive but my mum was very weak, she was also overweight 97kgs that's why it was so hard to take her down from a fifth floor apartment in a shitty lift. Her result for chucungunya done at hospital came back positive. She kept saying she was fine, none of us realised the fatality of the situation p I don't know what killed her, doctor said she must have had diverticulitis or Crohns which got worse but no one had any specific cause. Her cerfticicate said MOD PERFORATION PERITONITIS ANF SEPTIC SHOCK. Do not ignore severe abdominal pain she fell sick on the 26th with fever only, got wide on the 29-30th Sep and passed on the 4th Oct. I will never forgive myself I should not have listened to the family doctor I should have made him order bloods sooner rather than listening to his viral and chucungunya logic, I hope it never happens to anybody's loved one. I missed the chance to give her life, I hate myself I will never forgive myself me and my brother lost the most loving and beautiful mum withi a span of eight days ... I wish.. I didn't say goodbye I didn't tell her I love her I am lost without her life has lost its meaning what Devil attacked her. We celebrated her birthday just a week ago and mine too :(it was too late I am not sure if she would have had better treatment in U.K. Or Usa not sure if the doctors in India treated her properly ..
  14. Dear all, I´m writing this from Sweden, so please excuse my sometimes broken English.. My beloved Mother died in 2013 and about half a year after her death I began to realize what has happened, and started to feel that I caused her death in a way. This is destroying my life and I don´t know how to live with myself, I cannot accept and move on. Here´s my story: My Mom had suffered from a stroke and got paralysed in 1998. Since then she lived in a nursing home. When she died she had pneumonia which did´t respond very well to the antibiotics they gave her. The nurse came to us one day and said that this is it, we will now focus on palliative care since her body isn´t responding and she also couldn´t take the food or liquid they gave her. This was very hard for me and my brother to accept.She was lying in her bed now but she looked like she normally did, though her breathing was strange sometimes during the nights when I sat by her bedside. The last night she was breathing very fast and deep, but she was alert and totally awake.After a few hours I asked the nurse to give her something to calm her down, and I think she gave her an injection of Morphine and Stesolide ( I don´t know if that name exists in English), I think she may got a little calmer and it took the worst edge of the breathing, but it was still very hard and fast.After 30 minutes or so I rang the bell again and asked the nurse if she could have some more, I don´t understand how I could do that!!! It´s like I didn´t understand the side effects of Morphine, how dangerous it is.The nurse said that Mom could get a little more.When she came with that second injection I saw my Mom ´s panic and she tried to express it to me, but used as I was to take decisions for my Mom all the time ( she couldn´t speak) I thought that is still was alright, if the nurse agreed there must be a reason, and now maybe my Mom could calm down and get some rest ( I still hadn´t accepted that she was going to die, still tried to save her!). And then, God forgive me, I went to bed and left my Mom in the care of the staff:( I was in such denial... Now I punish myself every day with guilt, I have destroyed my Mom´s death and I have destroyed my own life. I tried later to get in contact with the nurse, but she hasn´t respond to my questions on how she could give her more Morphine despite all her knowledge about medications. People talk about guilt, and I know that everyone feels guilty when a parent dies, but in my case I have a true gulit, I did do something that caused my beloved Mom´s death. She might have lived two more days, and we could all have said our goodbyes, my brother wasn´t there that night and I went to bed..this is bringing me down, I don´t know how I can live with this.. Please if there´s anyone out there who has been in the same situation or have some thoughts on this please let me know. Thank You.
  15. Loss of my Cat

    I am really struggling with the death of my 15 year old cat, Moo. I made the choice to put him down on Wednesday after a long happy life together. We were best friends. I got him for my tenth birthday, we did everything together. I knew he had kidney disease, but I had him on a special diet and medication until he started bleeding from his back end on Tuesday. We went to the vet and he told me it would cost thousands to just figure out what exactly was causing him so much discomfort. He stopped eating, drinking. But part of me still thinks I made a horrible choice to end his life. He wasn't looking good but I keep thinking, what if he got better. The vet gave me an option to take him home for a few weeks with new medication, but it likely wouldn't have worked. I feel so guilty for it. What if he had more time here and I took it away from him. The thought of never seeing him again kills me. If anyone has any advice, it might help me...
  16. Hello. I have lost my mother last November. It still feels like the day I lost her. Even worse, if it's possible. I constantly think about the little things she asked me to do and I put off. Mean things I've said to her that could have upset her. All the things I didn't do for her. She was the most loving, selfless person I know and in the end she did not receive the love she deserved in time. Her death was sudden. She wasn't even that sick. She was supposed to get her gall stone removed and return to her normal life in a week. Now I mourn every day, every minute for her future that was robbed. I don't think I can live with myself.
  17. How Do I Get Past the Guilt?

    My beloved cat, Starbuck, died on Monday, January 16th. He was diagnosed with cancer about a week prior, and the vets at his care center gave him his first chemo treatment the day after diagnosis. Starbuck's full story can be found here : Starbuck's GoFundMe Page (we are no longer seeking donations). Long story short (unless you followed the link), Starbuck got better, then worse, then a little better, then even worse, and through it all, the doctors continued to give me hope, saying things like, "If we can just get him over this hump, the chemo can do its work", and "If we can just get food in him for a few days, he'll be much more stable." I just wanted my kitty to live a little longer, and it seemed like a real possibility, the way they explained it, and all the research I did online seemed to support what they were saying. But after we'd spent $6000 on blood transfusions and a feeding tube and meds and oxygen and ultrasounds and centesis and hospitalization, we ran out of money. The vet called me Monday morning to check in, and let me know Starbuck was doing about the same. I informed him that we had to bring Starbuck home at this point, because we were flat broke. He said he'd write up some detailed instructions for home care. My dog died in November of 2016, we'd had to have her euthanized at this same veterinary facility. The cost was $900. My four children and I got Starbuck home around 1pm. He was MUCH worse off than I'd been led to believe. He was pitiful, and it was obvious he did not have long. My kids were seeing this first hand, and with the exception of one holdout, we agreed that Starbuck needed to be put to sleep, as a kindness. The one holdout, my oldest son, was fully on board with euthanasia by the time of Starbuck's death, which was at 2:30. Until the last minute, he'd still had hope we might find some more money, or that one more dose of medicine might help, or maybe if we waited long enough, Starbuck would improve. He was grasping for any straw out there, he wanted his kitty to live, and I love him for it. Unfortunately, we never had time to act on the euthanasia plan, even though I had found someone to come to our home and do it, at a price my parents were willing to pay, due to our current financial situation. I had read up on ways to comfort a sick and dying cat, and we'd prepared our home in every way we possibly could. He had a cozy bed and blankets in a warm, quiet, draft-free part of the house. His water dish and litter box were right at hand. We had quiet nature sounds playing, and soft, indirect lighting for him to see by. There was room for all of us to gather around him and pet him. We had tried to see to Starbuck's every comfort, and between the five of us, we were ready to provide round the clock care. It wasn't enough. His ending was awful. We were all there, petting him, telling him we loved him, saying that it was okay to stop fighting and let go. He gasped his last breath surrounded by loved ones, but it wasn't peaceful, it wasn't dignified, and I wished to god I'd had enough time to arrange a better ending for him. He was such a good kitty, he was so sweet and gentle and funny, he was so LOVED, and he didn't deserve to die like that, to spend his last moments on earth in distress and pain. I can't stop seeing it over and over in my mind, and it hurts more than anything I've ever experienced. How do I get past this? I can't sleep, I can't eat, and everything I see reminds me of Starbuck. I'm a useless person while I'm consumed with this much grief and guilt, and I want to get better. What do I do?
  18. Loss of my little Sister

    Loss my little Sister on the 18th to a drug overdose, had her funeral yesterday and it all still seems so unreal to me, I am feeling so much guilt, I feel that I should have done more to try and help her and my biggest fear is that my daughter will be next, I have called the crisis intervention team on my sister and they kept her for three days and released her. My family and I have tried and tried talking to them both, tried to get them to get the help that they need, needed but it's like it goes in one ear and out the other, they seem, seemed like an empty walking shell with no, heart, no morals, no common sense. I am afraid of what's going to happen when it sinks in that my little sister is gone, as of right now it still feels as if I am stuck in a bad dream, I don't know what to think, say, or do
  19. new to this

    It was his funeral yesterday - so that means it must be true, its not a prank, or a cruel hoax, or a mistake. My son is dead and that's the truth
  20. This is my first experience with forums, so I hope I'm doing this correctly. My father passed away almost 10 months ago, and I've had an extremely hard time dealing with the feelings of guilt and regret. This is not my first experience with the loss of a parent. My mother passed away suddenly in 2001, and it was terrible as you can imagine. I was 23 and my sister was 19. It took a long time time to figure out how how to cope, and there was some regret, but nothing like I feel now with my dad gone. My dad and mom divorced when I was around 4, so I grew up without seeing him everyday. However, we visited every other weekend, and he always made sure he called on birthdays and holidays. I never had any doubts that he loved me. By the time I was in my mid teens, he was divorced for the second time and enjoyed a somewhat wild lifestyle. Though I think he had a tougher time than he would admit with that marriage ending, and it was during that time that I started to see him drink more, and it was the first time I truly ever recall him being drunk. We still saw him and talked to him pretty regularly. As I approached 20, he had remarried and had a new baby on the way. I honestly wasn't sure what to think about it, but it was his life and as long as he was happy, that's all that mattered. As it turned out, that would become one of the most volatile and unhealthy relationships that I have ever witnessed. His drinking and behavior became increasingly worse at times. We still spoke and I would visit, just not as often as before because of college and work. There were several attempts to get him to seek treatment, but he refused. This made me angry, but mostly sad. When my mom passed when I was 23, he did a good job of trying to help me and my sister through that. However, his drinking continued. About a year after my mom passed, there was an incident between him, myself and my sister. He did not agree with who I was dating and showed up at my apartment one night intoxicated, violent and he said hurtful things to us that should never be said to your children. For the better part of 4 years he basically quit speaking to us, didn't attend my sisters wedding and moved out of state. I missed him and still loved him, but it was his choice. In 2006, he called me out of the blue and we reconnected. We spoke every night for several weeks, and he finally asked if he could come stay with me for a while. He was still living out of state but had lost his license and a good paying job. He needed help so I agreed. That worked for a while but he was still drinking and my tolerance was low. That eventually ended with another argument and me asking him to leave. After that he caught some bad breaks - jail over child support, difficulty in finding a job without license, all of his things were stolen out of storage, and the worst part was a stroke around 2009. After that he just wasn't quite himself. He would still drink excessively which led me to saying things that were hurtful and refusing to go around him. He went through boughts of depression, and would cry quite a bit about the past. I'm not good at dealing with those types of things so I would just try to get him to move past it. He would dwell on his third marriage and how he was wronged, which he was in many ways, but there was nothing he could do at that point to change it so I would get so frustrated at his repetitive gripes. I was the one who took care of the paperwork, and made phone calls and made sure he paid his bills. i would usually stop by his house every 2 to 3 weeks to see if he needed anything else, but found myself fussing at him about the cleanliness of his house. I stayed on him about that. He was always so meticulous in his appearance and his surroundings, but in recent years he had let that go. It bothered me to see him that way. Maybe there were times I was embarrassed, but mainly I just didn't want people looking down on him. I found that overall my patience with him was very low too. The best way to describe it is that I probably talked to him like a child sometimes. I wasn't hateful or mean, but stern, possibly condescending. i never really stayed long when I did visit, it was always a quick in and out. Though I always told him he had an open invitation to my house, and tried to get him over at least once a week. By last year, he was improving. He was drinking less, but still suffered from depression sometimes. I think he had a hard time adjusting to his new life with limited income. He was doing a better job overall. Though my patience with him in general was low. In June 2015, he was admitted to the hospital and coded twice. Miraculously, after a week, it was almost as if nothing had ever happened. He was feeling better, walking everyday and seemed happy. The doctors assured me that any problems with his heart could be managed with medicine. Over the next couple of months, he was coming by my house more and we spoke once a week. However, on August 13, he was gone. I had not physically seen him in 2-3 weeks prior to take because I had been in and out of town. I literally felt like my world was crashing around me. I felt sick. I still feel sick. I know this is long, so I apologize, but I tell you all of this to give you the background of how and why I feel like I do today. I can't get past the feeling that I should have been nicer, visited more, had more patience. I feel like I was a terrible daughter emotionally, and I tried to substitute that with financial support. I think back to all of the times he would be talking to me and I would be nodding my head and looking down at my phone. I worry that he thought I was embarrassed of him. Even though I always said I love you when ending a call, I worry most of all that he never truly knew just how much I loved him and how much I would have done for him. I just don't know how to move forward.
  21. My beloved dad passed away almost six months ago, two days after Christmas, 2014. We were very close. My father was my best friend and my hero. I was his only child and his caregiver. He raised me by himself after my parents divorced when I was five years old. For most of the last thirty years I was a caregiver for four elderly relatives in succession, so I stayed home a lot. My dad and I lived in the same house for 55 years. In the last 14 years we were together almost 24/7. It feels like my own life ended with his, because our lives were so intertwined for all those years. And yet, when I look back, I can't believe all the time that has passed. The years passed too quickly. There were so many things I had hoped to do for and with my father, but we ran out of time. Almost every happiness I experienced was associated with him in some way. I grew up surrounded by lots of relatives and friends. Now most of my friends and relatives have died or moved away. For the first time in my life I am alone, no husband, no children, not even a boyfriend. I've never felt such intense loneliness and sadness before. I have tried to make new friends, but the more people I meet, the more I miss my dad, because no one is as kind, generous and considerate as he was. My father taught me to like the things he liked, especially movies and music. Through the years we watched and listened to thousands of films and songs, especially classic films and vintage pop music of the '20's and 30's. Now when I think of our favorite films and songs, I'm filled with sadness and longing. I think of how I'll never be able to watch a favorite film or listen to music with him again. Movies and music used to be our refuge from the worries and sadness of life. The very things that used to comfort me and make me happy now make me sad. Most people don't share my interests, so I feel very isolated. Not much of anything interests me anymore. I don't want to abandon the interests I shared with my father, but it's so painful to think about even the happy memories of my dad. "There is no greater sorrow than to recall a happy time when miserable." -- Dante. I feel so miserable. It happened so fast. My father had been through crises before, but his will to live always pulled him through. It would take too long to describe all the medical things that went wrong, which make me think the hospital wanted him to die. He was 86 and had been sick for a long time, but his death still came as a terrible shock to me. I loved him more than anything in this world, and he knew it, but I still think of times when I wasn't as kind to him as I should have been. I always asked for his forgiveness right away, but I wish I hadn't complained about things so much to him. Compared to the way I feel now, I was in the seventh heaven back then. There were always problems I had to discuss with him, from crooked contractors to inept lawyers to false friends and envious relatives. Our escape from reality were films and music. I practically sacrificed my life for my dad, but I still feel I didn't do enough for him. He was such a good person, so humble, patient and considerate. In his younger days, he was strong, handsome and as chivalrous as they come.. I always felt safe in his presence, even after he could no longer physically protect me. I was so proud of my dad. He never finished high school, but he had more class in his little finger than some people have in their whole body. People say I will get used to living alone, but will I get used to being unhappy? I never realized before just how dependent my happiness was on my father. I know my presence was a comfort to him, too. I helped save his life more than once, but there were times he was alone in the hospital, because I had to sleep and there was no one to cover for me. I thought he would be watched over in the ICU, but twice I found him in distress with no one helping him. It broke my heart to see my normally stoic father beg for air, water and God's mercy. Then when he saw me, he thanked me so profusely. From that point, I knew I could not leave him by himself anymore. But by then it was too late. Once they put him on the morphine drip and removed the nasal gastric feeding tube, it helped with his breathing and for a brief while he was his normal, calm self, until he drifted off into unconsciousness. Those last images of him relaxed and calm save my sanity. I then watched him die for 36 hours straight in Comfort Care from respiratory failure. They say he didn't suffer, but his labored breathing looked uncomfortable. Sometimes his furrowed brow made it look like he wanted to wake up. As I kept vigil by his bedside, I finally nodded off to sleep in the chair. Then he took his last breath. It's as if my father had waited for me to fall sleep before he left this world. I was lucky to have had my father with me for as long as I did, but even at age 56, I feel like a orphan, alone and lost in the world. My mother died just two months before my dad, but she didn't raise me. The grief for my father is much worse, because I was with him my whole life. My life seems so empty now. People tell me to keep busy, but I still think about him, no matter what I'm doing. Some activities make me think about him even more, such as working in the garden. I feel I should have treated him like the rare treasure that he was, and not spent so much time on my hobbies. I should have cherished every last moment with him. There were quiet times, when we'd be resting on the couch, when I did cherish our time together, even if we didn't say a word to each other. I thought he had a few years left. I'd give up everything I have just to spend one more hour with him, an hour where we could still talk and laugh as if we didn't have a care in the world, like in the good old days. I'm not sleeping well. It was a struggle to wean myself off of Ambien and then Ativan. I barely have enough energy to wash the dishes and do the laundry. I still have to do most of the same mundane chores I did before, but now without the joy of my dad's company. Even taking the garbage out and making a grocery shopping list was more fun when he was around. When you've been happy with someone all your life, how can you go on without them? I have lost loved ones before, but I always had my dad to give me moral support. Now there is no one in the world who loves me. There are people who like me, but it's not the same as having a parent, a child, a sibling or a partner who really cares about me. Then I feel so sorry for my father, that he didn't get to do a lot of the fun things that most people do. Partly it was his choice. He was happiest at home, but I feel like he short-changed himself. I haven't had the most fun life either, as a caregiver all those years, but at least my life had a purpose and I was with people I loved every day. Life without love is no life at all! Now I have the time and freedom to do fun things, but they aren't fun anymore, because I miss my dad. I keep seeing things he would have liked and I wish so much he could see them. Sometimes I wonder if he is in heaven seeing wonderful things and wishing I could see them, too.
  22. Hello Everyone, I have never posted on a forum before but I feel that a strangers' point of view might help me most. It has been exactly one month today since my Mom died. She was only 47 years old and I myself am only 21. My mom passed away from a lung disease called Acute respiratory distress syndrome. She passed away about 4 weeks after her diagnosis. It was all very sudden and extremely traumatic. I have never lived without my mom and although it has already been a month, I still have to remind myself daily of her passing. It truly has not hit me yet and I am curious if this has happened to anyone else? I was inconsolable the day she passed but I feel like I should be more sad on a daily basis (if that makes sense). I think that the fact that my brain has not grasped that she is gone is affecting my ability to grieve. The only emotion i have been feeling is guilt. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt for so many different reasons. I feel guilt that this happened to her when she was so young and extremely healthy. I feel guilt that she spent her life serving her community as a police officer and that she did not deserve this. I feel guilt that i did not treat her as well as I should have. I feel guilt because I would absolutely love to believe that there is some sort of after-life and that she is reunited with her loved ones but i do not totally feel that way. I feel guilt that I never got to tell her how much I love her and how much she means to me. The list of reasons that I feel guilt is endless and it does not feel normal to feel so guilty. Why do I feel guilt more than sadness? Why has this not hit me yet?
  23. PTSD loss

    Almost 3 weeks ago I lost my best friend, my soulmate to suicide. My boyfriend was a young 26 year old veteran, who served in the ARMY and deployed to Afghanistan for a year. I met him earlier this year. He was not my type I stayed away but eventually his big smile, kind heart, hardworking, happy self swept me off my feet. We started dating, spending every day every moment together, and eventually got to talking about kids and marriage. I started noticing his PTSD as the time passed. He would get startled and get jumpy, especially as he slept. He was also having issues with his mom and sister. They never supported him while he was overseeas and left him alone, when he needed them the most. On his own he came back from Afghan, started his career as a correctional officer, got promoted within a year, and bought his first home. I told him every day how proud I was. He had days where he was down and sad about his mom and sister, he'd cry to me to never leave him. I adviced him to talk to a counselor because I knew this depression state was getting to him and it was affecting his health. The day he passed he left work early because he wasnt feeling well, we went to urgent care where they prescribed him anti deprssants. I lfet his house devastated, he told me not to leave but I didnt want him to see me so broken. After not hearing from him I went back to his house where I found him. He had taken all of his medication and shot himself. You can see why I feel guilt. These days without him have been the hardest. Finding out he had bought our engagement ring breaks my heart, my future was all in him, us together and now hes gone. Although I know hes no longer suffering im left with so many unanswered questions. I miss him more and more everyday.
  24. I am new tonight. I am not here because I do not have people to talk to, it is just that sometimes it is easier to say things to strangers. My husband died June 1st of this year. He died sleeping on the sofa while I stayed in the bedroom so I did not disturb him. Let me provide a brief background. He was injured on the job 5 years ago. Just a slight injury which due to the negligence of a workers comp doctor resulted in his losing the use of his hand. 14 surgeries later and in constant pain due to RSD (reflex sympathetic dystrophy), addiction to pain pills, he was finally getting some relief from low dose methadone therapy which sadly is what he died of. In the morning, I heard him breathing very loud just as his best friend came to see him. I shook him for about 3 minutes trying to wake him up. He did wake up and I was yelling at him, what did you take? I am calling 911. He said I am fine, don't call them I am just trying to wake up. 2 1/2 hours later he was dead. I have so much guilt that had I called 911 he may have been ok. His friend who is a nurse said that he thought at that time his heart was so bad that he would not have been saved. Looking back, he had the signs of a heart attack the day before , an odd feeling in his left arm, which was not unusual as he had a spinal stimulator sending constant electric shock down his arm. He was taking Tums and he was gray and waxy looking which he thought he was getting my cold. The grief is unbearable but the guilt is worse. He was only 48 years old. In the week after he died, we had our anniversary and his birthday. It just seems like every day there is something that he is missing and I, I am missing him.
  25. My cat has always been finicky about eating. She has always been very thin, and had an obsession with water. If I was bathing, brushing my teeth, getting a glass of water, there she would be asking to get a drink with me. Last week I started to notice that she wasn't looking great. It didn't raise too many eyebrows because she was still doing all of her normal things, hanging out with me, bathing, drinking, messing with our other cat. On Friday I came home and noticed that she was actively different. She was slower to move around, and out right refused to eat. I worried about her, but I went to the store to find all of her favorite foods so I could get her to try to eat something. The only thing she would eat was a few tablespoons of pureed pumpkin and a she would only drink if I let her drink out of the cap of a water bottle. Saturday she was noticeably bad. She wouldn't eat or drink at all and she started to hide under the bed. I decided to take her to the vet. I was expecting to hear that she had diabetes or cancer. I was expecting to get an astronomical bill, but to get to take my little girl home. She was only 10 years old. I was expecting to have her in my life for the 7-10 years. The prognosis was grim. She had kidney disease. Her temperature was low. She had kidney stones in both kidneys. Her mucus membranes were completely dried up. Expecting the vet to get to work on saving her, instead he suggested that we put her down. I was in complete shock. He brought her back to me to spend time with her before he put her to sleep. She was having a hard time moving around, but she was walking, and sniffing. She looked like she wanted to leave. She looked haggared and thin and sick. I petted her, held her. She sat down and started to purr. Then the Dr. came in. She was cradled in my arms. He gave her the first shot and she instantly fell over in my arms. He gave her the second shot and walked out of the room. I was devestated. The thing I am having the most difficult time dealing with is the feeling that I didn't do enough to save her. She was only 10 years old. Should I have asked him to do everything possible to save her? Did I ask enough questions? If I would have waiting to take her to my normal vet on Monday, would she have had another suggestion? I have so much guilt now in thinking back to that day. She was still walking. She was still purring. She looked terrible, but I just feel like I could have proded to get the vet to try anything else to help her. I have another cat who has been near death 4 times now. I can't understand how one cat can bounce back from the brink of death 4 times and the other cat gets sick one time and now she is gone. Ren was my best friend. We did everything together. She would sit on the edge of the bathtub while I bathed. She would sit and watch me brush my teeth in the morning. She would follow me from room to room. She would sleep on my hip every night. She would stretch up her arms to me as if to say, "I want held mama," and I would pick her up as she stretched her long back legs, and then she would rest in my bosom until she fell asleep. When she heard the door open, she would run out from under the bed to meet me. I keep hoping I will catch a glimpse of her spirit, or feel her try to rest on my hip again. I cry myself to sleep every night. When I get home and she's not there I bawl. My other cat has been great. When he hears me crying he comes to check on my. It's very sweet, but it's not the same. I can't get over the loss of my best friend. I need to know I did the right thing, but I just can't get over the guilt of feeling like I didn't do enough to save her life.