Life Goes On . . .
I have not been able to write this week but there have been so many things going through my brain and sorting through all of the emotions from the last several months.
We are all creatures of habit . . . sometimes without totally realizing the small mundane things that make up our lives are so very much a part of what makes us happy or whole.
I found myself this past week coping with the death of my Levi, my 12 year old Golden Retriever and as such have been one of the hardest weeks of my life. I found myself stepping gingerly onto the floor as in years past to not step on Levi as I awoke and not finding him under foot or within a few steps from me as I made my way around the house.
There were no treats or carrots the first thing in the morning . . . no opening the door for that first morning snow angel before Levi would get to his business before I left for work each day. That time spent each morning as we went outside to start my rig so it would warm up before making my drive into the office. Some days (not enough now it seems) he would stay with me at the office always underfoot as I make my way to the fax machine or my plans table. There were no days of returning home to see him sitting up in the window seat looking and waiting for my return. If he was not at the window he slept the afternoon away by the front door waiting for the sound of my rig to pull into the driveway. Once I returned he would grab as many of his toys as he could hold in his mouth and tail wagging . . . eagerly wait until I made my way up the steps to the front door.
It would be toys and probably a shoe or two in his mouth as he made funny noises showing me how glad he was I had come home . . . this week was not the same . . . all of the toys hidden away from my view . . . only to open the door and feel like all of the life had been sucked out of my home.
I cannot truly imagine what it would be like to lose your child but this has to be a similar feeling as family share those years with all of the sickness, broken up or injured times that we all go through. I knew his health had been declining these last few months as his eyesight had noticeably changed and the friskiness in his step and manner has slowed a bit never really showing how much discomfort he surely was feeling. He never outwardly showed any signs other than the last two days of trying to go outside more frequently to go to the bathroom only to find himself struggling to make anything happen as he was blocked by the growth inside his pelvis.
My Saturday breakfast this week was a totally different drive than weeks and years past. I felt no need to open the window so Levi could hang his head out in the freezing air . . . tongue happily flopping around and the ice forming from his breath. There was no Styrofoam box with his scrambled egg inside and the occasional hash browns or skillet potatoes. It was hard breaking the news to all of the waitresses who have served our group these last five years who make sure that Levi is taken care of each week.
Did I mention that it feels like the life has been sucked out of my house?
Last Sunday was Easter and the church service was wonderful and that wonderful feeling that was felt early in the day changed somewhat as the hours spent at the pet emergency room was filled with emotion and concern. They could make Levi comfortable for the night for almost a thousand bucks since our normal vet was not open on weekends. I chose to have them drain his bladder, medicate him to be comfortable and he could spend his night at home and not in some cold kennel.
Levi was happy to go on his last ride hanging his head out the window and when we came upon three moose on the roadside he barked his friendly greeting to them as we drove by. I knew the tests at the vet were not going to have a good outcome and it was not long before we were on the floor lying there . . . looking into each others eyes as his life passed before me . . .
It’s those little things that I am having trouble getting used too . . . to sit and write at night when the house is quiet and everyone is asleep . . . to work with the same focus of energy knowing that I come home to an empty house.
Today’s church service was about Job and all of the trials he went through while steadfastly maintaining his faith in God. God gave him no understanding of all the things that happened to him and his family and maybe that is my lesson . . .
The drive home has been the hardest as I make the walk up the stairs and into the house . . . no Levi to greet me . . . the mud room with shoes neatly in place just as they were left in the morning . . . no enthusiasm of my return.
How long does one grieve for a child . . . when will my laughter return?
Life goes on . . . sort of.
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