You know something is not right.
Phantom jingles echo through the emptiness.
Shadows linger where nothing remains.
A week ago today I said my last goodbye to my partner of over 13 years. And it was tough. Really tough. I’m getting misty just typing these first paragraphs.
She was here one moment and then…just gone. And when she left there was nothing but a shell in front of me. No amount of weeping could bring her back. No level of effort. Nothing.
Yet still I wonder. Could I have done more for her? Were there any signs that I missed which would have her here with me now? I just don’t know. And I never will.
But I do know she is no longer in pain. Her heart murmur worsened. Her heart enlarged, beating at an accelerated rate. Fluid in the abdomen. A growth somewhere on the spleen or intestines. Just too much which was not evident in her check up less than a month ago.
The past two pets I had to say goodbye to went quick. One day they’re fine and then the next they’re immobile, and you’re on your way to the hospital.
We were given the news Thursday. I chose to take her home and let her have one last night with us. We told the kids. They didn’t react as I expected, but the reality gave way to questions later on. Some are still trickling in. I imagine more will come. This all happened so quickly we all have to process it.
Sadie was humongous part of our lives, and we will miss her. She is in a better place without pain and suffering. Although it’s painful, we needed to let her go. Her last hours were with us, and we loved each other unconditionally.