Oh, things
I realised I hadn't written on my journal since Christmas, so have to rectify that. I wanted to tell you more about Amy, and my thoughts on everything, but I realised that I'm not quite ready yet. I started writing about her last night for an entry and the tears just wouldn't stop, so I guess I need to give it a bit more time.
I can't believe how hard her death has hit me. I feel like I'm dealing with it well, and then a black cloud descends or someone says something that reminds me of her, or I'm at work doing something and accidentally start singing a song (I'm terrible for doing this: replacing words to a song with someone else's name or a story and I did it with Amy most) and hurt myself. I've had to sit there a few times, trying to pull myself together or hastily wiping the tears away before a colleague sees.
Honestly, I really hate public scenes. And yes, I realise this is ironic when I'm sharing my ~feelings in a public journal.
I'm starting to get upset again writing this, so I'll leave it at that for now. I'm okay, I promise you all. I just need time. It heals everything.
We got a puppy for my dad, a pure border collie (Amy was part golden retriever and I suspect that was why she had some problems with her heart. Or maybe it was just age. Huh.) and she's a horror, a terror. We called her Ellie, from Eleni/Eleanor. Etymology points to light, healing. And it's what we need: some light, some healing. (Amy, by the way, means 'beloved' <3).
It's been hard, because Amy was an excellent dog for my dad. She made sure he got up of a morning - every day, nagging him for a walk -- and gave him so much love. He wouldn't get up until afternoon after she died and, along with our other dog, he wouldn't eat properly. When we brought Ellie into the house, he picked her up, hugged her, and smiled for the first time since Christmas Eve.
I feel horrible about it because no matter how much I rationalise it, replacing Amy feels like a betrayal. It's absurd: nothing could ever, ever replace her. I fear that I have a barrier with Ellie and can't love her so deeply because of it. But again, time will heal this. We did it to keep my dad going; it's the important thing.
Things that don't keep one going are stuff like being involved in a severe car crash. In a brand new car. Yep! My mother phoned me on Monday and begged me to come home quickly - some clown in a 4x4 overtook a van on the other side of the road by diving into the left lane. Where my parents were driving. Our car's a write-off, my dad has three broken ribs and a punctured lung, and my mum fractured her wrist. Oh, oh! And my dad was due to have a tumour cut out of his oesophagus on Tuesday, and now the appointment has been set back because they can't operate on someone with a punctured lung. Whoop!
THE GREAT LUCK JUST KEEPS ON COMING :D
My BFF Hannah said I need to think positive and look to the light. Ellie, you've got a lot of responsibility on your fluffy puppy shoulders. And hey, at least there'll be personal injury compensation to help them? Yeah? Bueller? :D
This entry was originally posted at http://www.dreamwidth.org/12345.html
I can't believe how hard her death has hit me. I feel like I'm dealing with it well, and then a black cloud descends or someone says something that reminds me of her, or I'm at work doing something and accidentally start singing a song (I'm terrible for doing this: replacing words to a song with someone else's name or a story and I did it with Amy most) and hurt myself. I've had to sit there a few times, trying to pull myself together or hastily wiping the tears away before a colleague sees.
Honestly, I really hate public scenes. And yes, I realise this is ironic when I'm sharing my ~feelings in a public journal.
I'm starting to get upset again writing this, so I'll leave it at that for now. I'm okay, I promise you all. I just need time. It heals everything.
We got a puppy for my dad, a pure border collie (Amy was part golden retriever and I suspect that was why she had some problems with her heart. Or maybe it was just age. Huh.) and she's a horror, a terror. We called her Ellie, from Eleni/Eleanor. Etymology points to light, healing. And it's what we need: some light, some healing. (Amy, by the way, means 'beloved' <3).
It's been hard, because Amy was an excellent dog for my dad. She made sure he got up of a morning - every day, nagging him for a walk -- and gave him so much love. He wouldn't get up until afternoon after she died and, along with our other dog, he wouldn't eat properly. When we brought Ellie into the house, he picked her up, hugged her, and smiled for the first time since Christmas Eve.
I feel horrible about it because no matter how much I rationalise it, replacing Amy feels like a betrayal. It's absurd: nothing could ever, ever replace her. I fear that I have a barrier with Ellie and can't love her so deeply because of it. But again, time will heal this. We did it to keep my dad going; it's the important thing.
Things that don't keep one going are stuff like being involved in a severe car crash. In a brand new car. Yep! My mother phoned me on Monday and begged me to come home quickly - some clown in a 4x4 overtook a van on the other side of the road by diving into the left lane. Where my parents were driving. Our car's a write-off, my dad has three broken ribs and a punctured lung, and my mum fractured her wrist. Oh, oh! And my dad was due to have a tumour cut out of his oesophagus on Tuesday, and now the appointment has been set back because they can't operate on someone with a punctured lung. Whoop!
THE GREAT LUCK JUST KEEPS ON COMING :D
My BFF Hannah said I need to think positive and look to the light. Ellie, you've got a lot of responsibility on your fluffy puppy shoulders. And hey, at least there'll be personal injury compensation to help them? Yeah? Bueller? :D
This entry was originally posted at http://www.dreamwidth.org/12345.html