Im uncomfortable being in my own home now.

[CooroDragon]

On monday october 7 I finally had to say good bye and let go of my cat Koda. He was with me for 17 glorious years. Always near me, on me, or beside me. He was my baby boy, and i miss him so damn much. I keep looking at the photos of him i have, and keep thinking "im never going to get to see those eyes again. Im never going to feel his fur again. Im never going to hear his purr, his odd meow, im never going to get his headbutts again". And it breaks my heart all over again.

The next day i discovered i dont like being in my own house anymore, cause hes not there, waiting for me. I dont live alone, i live with my dad. I also have other cats, but they're not as close to me as he was. I fucking hate everything. The life that took him away from me, myself cause i couldnt do more. The best thing i did was let him rest in peace. 

But now, im so lonely. I dont have my baby anymore. And i hate being in my house. Ive got nothing left. id have done anything to be able to make him healthy and happy again. But i couldnt. And i couldnt let him suffer anymore. But i miss him soo much. I wish he was still here so i could hug him, and know everything is ok. But hes not here, and nothing is ok.

[KayC]

I am so sorry for the loss of your cat.  
Comfort for Grieving Animal Lovers

I hope this short video brings you some comfort and peace.
I find it helps to come here and post and read, it helps you know you're not alone and others get it and understand.
It's naturally hardest in the beginning...

 

[Jim M]

I know exactly what you mean. I lost my pal Preston on 7/26 this yeat (Rescued terrier mix). Most of the time now, this far out, I can get through most days without grief but just good memories. But still, now and then,I look at a picture of him and it's really, really sad. I think when that happens you have to take some time feeling that, until it  starts to fade away, and then go on with the day. Over time it gets OK, and these deeply sad moments are fewer, but, I don't think we ever stop missing them. It just changes from pain to remembering the good times. Though they are gone, you got to be thankful you had them. Got to embrace the memories. 

[KayC]

3 hours ago, Jim M said:

It just changes from pain to remembering the good times.

And that's significant.

[Jim M]

Be open to the chance that your other cats may sense your unease and draw closer to try and comfort you. I think you're lucky to have them. Confide in them how you feel. They may not show it, but they may be feeling the loss of Koda too. They do not show how they feel many times. 

[foreverhis]

On 10/11/2024 at 12:40 PM, Jim M said:

It just changes from pain to remembering the good times. 

That’s exactly right. It sure takes time, but now when I think about my soulmate in a dog, Charlie Bear, I remember almost only the good things. Even getting him through his life threatening intestinal cancer at 10 is a “good” memory because he made it through, recovered completely after surgery, and we had another 5 years with him.

The memories of the day we lost him will always be there, always be painful. It was sudden (respiratory embolism), so he didn’t suffer. But most importantly, John and I were with him. We had immediately taken him to the vet when he collapsed (less than 10 minute drive, which I swear John made in 2 minutes). They were ready and did everything they could. We have excellent vets, so she let us come in the back treatment area while she and her tech worked. It wasn’t just to keep our Charlie Bear calm, though it did help. I think the vet knew right away that we were going to lose him, and she knew we’d need to be with him as much as he needed us.

They’re all about making sure family can be there, if they want to be. There’s even a small room set aside for scheduled goodbyes. It has soft lights, cushions on the floor for humans and they bring in a bed for the pet being let go. There’s an electric candle in the lobby with a note that if it’s lit, someone is saying goodbye, so please be quiet and respectful.

Even though we had our wonderful Penny, John’s soulmate in a cat, still at home, it was extremely difficult for quite a while. The quiet, no “click-click” of nails on the wood floors, no goofy boy bringing over a toy to play, no 42 lb “lap dog” demanding to nap right on us. Penny grieved hard too. That helped us in an odd way because we spent time focusing on helping her, which took us out of our own pain temporarily. Over time (months), we all settled into our house being a home again as we were able to embrace the memories of 15 joyous years with our boy.

These days, I look at my Cosi girl and know I made the right choice in letting her claim my heart. And it was for sure her choosing me, not the other way around. I was kind of afraid to open my heart again, knowing that it’s likely I will have another goodbye someday. Charlie Bear wasn’t my/our first, but he was the hardest for me. Still, I don’t regret for a moment adopting my girl. I also don’t regret letting my sweet, funny, silly, loving doggie friend Raleigh wiggle her way into my heart either. It’s years later since I started taking care of her at least one afternoon to early evening every week. She’s 14-1/2 and showing signs of her age now. We continue to embrace every good day with her, even as she slows down and as her arthritis shows, because she continues to live in the present, being content with the simple things.

So there’s my very long explanation of how we/I get through the first weeks and months when “home” no longer feels like the most comforting, safe place in the world. And why I have let myself be vulnerable to it happening again some day.

[Jim M]

Great story.    Thanks!