Muddling Through
Today, I find myself sitting in the recliner, missing Shiva. She almost always was in whatever room I was in, lying against the wall or curled up on the rug. Every time I look at the place in the living room where she'd lay down, it hits me and there's this twinge. It sucks.
Yesterday, I called the vet to get the information on having Shiva cremated. In the afternoon, I brought her out of the cellar and into the car for our last ride to the vet. I kept thinking of how she *always* loved sticking her head out the window when we'd go for a ride, and tried not to cry too much. When I went in to the desk, the vet tech I always see asked me if I was here to pick up medicine (since I've been there every couple of weeks in the last few months) and I lost it a bit, saying no, I was there to bring Shiva in to be cremated because she'd died at home. She was really great about everything, and I paid to have Shiva cremated and have the ashes returned to me. Then I brought the car around to the back and gave her to the techs to take in, and then I really just lost it. The reality of it all finally hit me. I'll never see her again. She's not suffering, but I will never get to pet her again, never look up to see her in whatever room I'm in - seeing the spot in each room where she preferred to lie down.
Last night I had already planned to spend time with a friend. So when he came over, unfortunately (for him) he got stuck being my shoulder to cry on for a while. Having someone to hug you when you feel like this is a lifesaver. With him, I feel like it's okay to be weak, that he won't think any less of me and I won't feel like I'm imposing. Not that I think any of my other friends would think I'm weak (or even really imposing), but I guess it's because I feel that way. It's something I'm not likely to work through any time soon, so I'm lucky I had someone I felt comfortable with like that.
So many people expressed their condolences, both online and on the phone. It means a lot to me. Sometimes I find myself amazed that people actually consider me a friend - I always have that feeling of being in the background, off the radar - and that if I were to just disappear, few people would notice. Standard self-pitying BS, but it's also a measure of the years of feeling a lack of self-esteem manifesting in behaviors I can't seem to shake.
For those who asked - I'm keeping people around for the most part. I'm hanging in there. I miss Shiva, but I've got Mikey and Kittin to take care of, and they both need LOTS of brushing. :) It's been therapeutic for me to sit and spend about 45 minutes or so combing Mikey the last couple of mornings. He isn't really thrilled about it, but I make a point of petting him a lot while I'm doing it. He always loves attention. With the way it takes so long to finish a section, I have many days of this ahead of me.
For years, I've held on to Burke's ashes, and I think I want to scatter the two of them together in Norman where I had them when they were both puppies and young adults. There was a park near our house with a great creek that they both loved to walk in when I'd let them, and when I thought of that place, it just felt right. I'm not in any great hurry to go back to Oklahoma, but it feels like the right thing to do. Perhaps in the late spring - I'll make a road trip out of it with Mikey and Kittin.
Much love to everyone, and thank you again for all your kind words and well-wishes.
Yesterday, I called the vet to get the information on having Shiva cremated. In the afternoon, I brought her out of the cellar and into the car for our last ride to the vet. I kept thinking of how she *always* loved sticking her head out the window when we'd go for a ride, and tried not to cry too much. When I went in to the desk, the vet tech I always see asked me if I was here to pick up medicine (since I've been there every couple of weeks in the last few months) and I lost it a bit, saying no, I was there to bring Shiva in to be cremated because she'd died at home. She was really great about everything, and I paid to have Shiva cremated and have the ashes returned to me. Then I brought the car around to the back and gave her to the techs to take in, and then I really just lost it. The reality of it all finally hit me. I'll never see her again. She's not suffering, but I will never get to pet her again, never look up to see her in whatever room I'm in - seeing the spot in each room where she preferred to lie down.
Last night I had already planned to spend time with a friend. So when he came over, unfortunately (for him) he got stuck being my shoulder to cry on for a while. Having someone to hug you when you feel like this is a lifesaver. With him, I feel like it's okay to be weak, that he won't think any less of me and I won't feel like I'm imposing. Not that I think any of my other friends would think I'm weak (or even really imposing), but I guess it's because I feel that way. It's something I'm not likely to work through any time soon, so I'm lucky I had someone I felt comfortable with like that.
So many people expressed their condolences, both online and on the phone. It means a lot to me. Sometimes I find myself amazed that people actually consider me a friend - I always have that feeling of being in the background, off the radar - and that if I were to just disappear, few people would notice. Standard self-pitying BS, but it's also a measure of the years of feeling a lack of self-esteem manifesting in behaviors I can't seem to shake.
For those who asked - I'm keeping people around for the most part. I'm hanging in there. I miss Shiva, but I've got Mikey and Kittin to take care of, and they both need LOTS of brushing. :) It's been therapeutic for me to sit and spend about 45 minutes or so combing Mikey the last couple of mornings. He isn't really thrilled about it, but I make a point of petting him a lot while I'm doing it. He always loves attention. With the way it takes so long to finish a section, I have many days of this ahead of me.
For years, I've held on to Burke's ashes, and I think I want to scatter the two of them together in Norman where I had them when they were both puppies and young adults. There was a park near our house with a great creek that they both loved to walk in when I'd let them, and when I thought of that place, it just felt right. I'm not in any great hurry to go back to Oklahoma, but it feels like the right thing to do. Perhaps in the late spring - I'll make a road trip out of it with Mikey and Kittin.
Much love to everyone, and thank you again for all your kind words and well-wishes.