My soulmates and best friends are gone

[russellwade]

This week 7th February 2022 I lost my beautiful Westie cross, Holly. She fought her hardest against cancer but I couldn’t see her keep deteriorating. We went for her last walk at 10am with her friends , my mothers 2 dogs but she just wasn’t herself. I knew she was struggling to do a number 1 and 2 because of the evil cancer and when I got her home she just looked sad, kept going out the garden and trying. She would come back in shaking and wouldn’t eat. Deep down I knew it was time, called the vet and rushed her in. They gave me the choice to keep her in overnight or put her to sleep.

I took my last photos with her and played her the video of her and her sister Fearne chasing each other around a tree whilst looking her in the eyes as she slipped away. It’s the first dog I have been through this with and just can’t keep feeling what I did was wrong, I keep looking at the pictures and her sad eyes. Friends just do not understand the pain I feel, I cannot stop crying. I lost her sister in a horrendous way. The vet was awful they wouldn't let me bring her in and when I finally got there I felt her heart stop on my shoulder as i.carried her, this was 2017.

I just feel like this pain is never ending, I have forgotten what sleep is. All people say is I did the right thing and try to not talk about it, they just don’t get it and this annoys me especially when they start talking about themselves and their grief over something else. Please, if you have any advice just give it to me.

[foreverhis]

Welcome.  I'm so very sorry you have a reason to be here with everyone.  Rest assured that we "get it" in ways that some people do not, cannot, or sometimes will not.

It's so hard, so very painful, to lose our most precious and special fur babies.  I know both kinds of loss you describe.  We lost our Keeshond Charlie Bear at nearly 15 to a sudden pulmonary embolism.  That day, my strong, often stoic husband sobbed uncontrollably right along with me as I held our baby's head while the vet tried to save him.  We grieved so hard when we lost him, as did his feline sister. 

We lost Penny (red tabby Persian with a petite, not squished, nose; the prettiest cat ever, IMO) 3 years later to intestinal cancer.  We had insurance, so we opted for treatment.  That helped for a while, until it didn't.  Watching her fade was heartbreaking in every way.  My husband and I had made the gut-wrenching decision and called our vet to come the next day to "lift her up" out of her pain and struggle to meet her brother at the Rainbow Bridge.  But that afternoon, she must have sensed how hard it was for us.  I was holding and singing to her and could see she was leaving us.  I brought her to my husband to hold and love because she was a daddy's girl from day one.  He held her gently as she took her last breath. 

You say you are feeling that what you did for Holly was wrong.  I believe that it was a selfless act of love.  What a wonderful idea to play a video for her while you made sure she knew you were there loving her until her very last breath.  You let her go to the Rainbow Bridge because what she needed was more important to you than keeping her alive, knowing she was suffering.  Please ask yourself what you would say to a friend, someone you love, if it was that person who was feeling this way.  Would you admonish them or would you give them comfort and compassion?  I'm guessing it would be the latter.  I've learned that we should try to be as kind to ourselves as we would to others.

Even all these years later, images of losing both our sweethearts are with me.  My grief hasn't stayed the same.  It evolved and became bearable over time--months and years, not days and weeks, but my eyes are filled with tears right now because I have never and will never stop missing them.  What I carry with me now is that one of the last things I told my husband was, "It's okay, love.  It's time for you to go find Charlie and Penny."  I have faith that they were waiting to welcome him in joyous reunion, even though my pain still often feels endless.  Someone recently posted a quote that says, "Grief is love with nowhere to go."  That is so true.

I'm appalled at your vet's behavior!  It sickens me inside to know that he or she wouldn't immediately tell you to bring Fearne in.  The only small solace I can think of is the same as we had:  That you were holding her, loving her, when she took her last breath.  We're the ones left here and so we grieve and our hearts break.  I'm sorry to say that many people are clueless or callous enough to tell us to "move on" or "get over it" or (worse, IMO), "It was just a dog/cat/pet."  No, he or she wasn't "just" anything!  They are our companions and friends, family.  They give us everything they have and all they ask is that we love and care for them in return.  We do this even though we know their lives are usually shorter than ours and that some day our hearts will break as we say goodbye.  Some may ask if it's worth it.  Of course it is!  Just as I would still jump in with my whole heart and love my husband, even knowing I'd be where I am now, so I would have chosen our two most special fur babies.  They were worth it; the three of them were worth everything to me. 

If you are able, you might want to tell people outright that you will always love and miss Holly and Fearne and that they don't have to understand, but they must respect that or you will not be able to spend time with them just now.  Tell them that you need to talk about it, if you do, or that you just want to be quiet, if that helps, and that you will grieve in your own way and own time.  It was really hard for me to speak up about things like that because we've always been taught to "put on a brave face" (nuts to that!) and "be strong" (how?) and other nonsense. 

I have to tell you that I found myself here about 6 months after my husband died because I was sick of and angry about people trying to compare some other loss to mine.  "I know exactly how you feel.  I lost my fill-in-the-blank."  No, no one knows exactly how another feels, not even if it's the same type of loss.  But the least people should be able to do is say, "I'm so sorry" and leave it at that if they can't offer real support.  Anyway, when I joined I posted about how comparisons felt to me and asked for advice.  Then I crossed my fingers and hoped that someone, anyone, would respond.  They did and with compassion, advice, and no judgement.

I learned to say, "No, you don't know how I feel." and "Please don't try to compare your loss to mine." and "Platitudes are hurtful, not helpful." and "If you don't understand, then please don't say anything at all."   I'd remind people what I will tell you now:  That for each person, the worst pain, heartbreak, and grief will always be their own.  And that's how it should be.

Losing my husband was the worst pain and grief I have ever been through, which is saying a lot because those two fur babies were so special.  We've loved all the animals in our lives, but those two...well, I think you know the feeling I can't really describe.  I wish I had the perfect words to help, but all I can offer is my understanding and sympathy.

[KayC]

I am so sorry for your loss...it helped me to write stories about my Arlie's life, also to journal his cancer journey.  It was important to me that people know how special he was, that he never be forgotten, to immortalize him in this way.  I am sorry your friends don't know how to be there for you in the way that you need, unfortunately that's all too common.  Like foreverhis, I also lost my husband, it is the hardest thing I've ever been through, but when I lost my Arlie years later, it was just as hard although different.  Those are the two I've been closest to, the ones that impacted my life the most.  I've had many losses, but nothing compared to those.  Just months later I lost my 25 year old Kitty..  My family of four was just me now (I'd previously lost another cat, Miss Mocha).  

 

I hope this brings you some peace and comfort...
Comfort for Grieving Animal Lovers

I truly believe we'll be together again...