Needing to get it all out. I guess I'll start at the beginning, and I apologize for the length of this post but I think I need to write out the whole story.
We adopted Elphaba the tortie and Annabelle the tuxedo in March 2005. We named Elphie named after the the "wicked witch" in the book/musical Wicked, because she was a spaz and was definitely the more adventurous and trouble-making of the two. When we checked out the cats at the shelter, she jumped down from the top of the cages to a windowsill and meowed the biggest-mouthed meow at me that I ever saw, especially for a little 7-lb. cat. She then hopped down to the floor and started chewing on a broom that was in the corner. She was missing a collar, and the shelter staff searched all of their cabinets and couldn't find any documentation for this cat, so they made up some new forms for us.
We took her home and found that although she was very adventurous and immediately explored her new surroundings, she was also extremely skittish — if she didn't see your hand coming as you went to pet her, she jumped 3 feet in the air when you made contact. Any sudden noises would send her into hiding. We suspect she used to be stray; she didn't come at the sound of a can opening, she didn't know to stay in one place to be petted (she'd walk by and then turn around and walk by again), and she didn't seem to know about comfy couches until she saw Annabelle lying there, and then you would later see Elphie in the same spot.
Over the years, we gradually built up her trust and she eventually allowed us to snuggle her and give gentle hugs, and she even sometimes rolled over to show us her belly. She no longer immediately ran and hid when she heard visitors coming, and occasionally made a wary appearance at the food bowl in the midst of a party. She became very attached to me (and I to her), and the first time I went away for a week, she showed her distress by urinating on my clothes and on a plastic shoe bag I had in the bottom of the closet. We weren't able to break her of this habit, and rather than put her on valium as our old vet suggested (at only 2 years old!), we got deeper laundry bags and made sure not to leave plastic lying around when we were away.
But it turns out Elphie was too aptly named, and we lost her early. In February 2010, we discovered a bean-sized lump on her left side, just in front of the thigh. Our new vet aspirated it, but results were inconclusive. We decided to wait and watch. By June, it had noticeably grown a bit, and our vet thought it best to remove it and do some testing. When she got in there, she discovered it was deeper than we thought and was partly in the body wall musculature. She removed as much as she felt comfortable doing but couldn't get a clean margin. Testing on the mass showed characteristics much like an aggressive vaccine-related fibrosarcoma. It didn't make sense; it was in a weird spot, and Elphie was so young. The vet referred us to an oncologist.
After several consultations with the oncologist and surgeon and getting X-rays to confirm it hadn't spread to any organs, we ultimately decided not to pursue any further treatment. It had been hard seeing her come home from that first surgery, stitches on bare skin on her side, drowsy and drunk from the anesthesia, and to top it off Annabelle was afraid of her odd smell and behavior and hissed at her for a week. I tried putting the Elizabethan collar on her but couldn't bear watching her confusion and inability to walk without tripping on it, and just opted to keep a close eye on her (I have been lucky to be a student during this time, so that I could be home with her). Because of the location of the tumor, further surgery may have required reconstruction of the body wall or even rib removal, and would require us to keep her in a large crate for two weeks so that she couldn't jump and reopen the wound, and could result in a visible "pouch" on that side of the body depending on how it was reconstructed. And all this for a prognosis of maybe another 2 years, if we included chemotherapy. It just didn't seem worth the suffering she would have to go through, and she wouldn't understand why it was happening to her.
Over the next year, multiple masses reappeared at the surgery site, but she was otherwise acting normal and they did not seem to bother her. Then the rollercoaster began. At the end of April this year, we had to let Rocky, our family dog, go. He was an old American Eskimo at 19, and had been slowly developing arthritis, losing his sight, hearing, mobility, and even ability to swallow. We got him when I was in 6th grade, and I have always been sad that I couldn't be with him more in his final years as I moved away to college and adult life. A week before I met my family for a week in the Poconos, Rocky's kidneys began to fail, and we decided it was time. It was terrible timing; I was at a public event all morning and couldn't properly grieve until I got home. It helped, though, that I had already been away from home for so long and didn't have any daily reminders in my new home, other than an old photo I've had in a frame on my desk. I cried for a couple of days, and then was able to let go and transition to happier memories, and was able to be with my family the week after.
Two weeks later, Elphie had her yearly exam. Everything was fine, other than to keep an eye on the masses because they could rupture. But in the next week, she had suddenly licked all of the fur off of one of the masses. I brought her in to the vet, and they confirmed that the mass may be about to rupture, and put her on a 2-week pain medication. We were leaving to visit my brother in Colorado the next day, so we boarded Elphie at the vet's for that weekend in case it ruptured. It didn't — until we were on the way back home from picking her up. I heard a hiss from the crate, and saw wet fur under the mass but couldn't see much else in the shadows of the carrier. I immediately turned around and brought her back. There wasn't much we could do at that point, other than to give her more pain meds. Ruptured tumors don't heal. She's a feisty one, so we went with an in-ear morphine. She did OK for another week, eating and drinking a little more than usual, mostly hiding behind the futon but sometimes coming out to play and explore a little. On June 14 she threw up a bunch of food; she had done this before so I hoped it didn't mean anything. But the next day she only ate a little bit of food, and the day after that she didn't eat or drink at all, and was spending most of her time hiding under the bed and sleeping. I brought my laptop upstairs so that I could sit with her while she slept. We made her final appointment for the next day.
She used to love going out in our backyard on a leash to eat all the grass out there, and she managed to rouse herself one last time Friday morning (June 17) to go out. It was a gray and buggy morning; she ate a few blades of grass but mostly walked slowly around, and sometimes just stood there, seeming to breathe in the air and just absorb it all. Then she decided it was time to come back in on her own. She never did that before.
Back inside, I made one last attempt to give her some junk food, but she refused it and curled back up to go to sleep. When she did open her eyes, they seemed unfocused and tired. It broke my heart. We brought her to the vet that afternoon, and she still had enough sass in her to resist being put in the carrier, and in her fear at the vet's she was suddenly more wide-eyed and alert, which made our decision all the more difficult. But I knew if we brought her back home she would go back to sleeping and hiding, and the unfocused, tired look would return, and then it was just a waiting game.
I had been reading about the euthanasia process and knew I wanted to be there with her in her last moments, and am very glad we were there. It has been 11 days now, and the rollercoaster has continued. We attended a retirement/graduation celebration the weekend after we let Elphie go, and I put on a brave face but when we were home and Monday came I lost it again. On Wednesday I finally got a paid gig in my new career field, and then that night my husband's grandmother passed away. By the weekend I'd started feeling a little more stable, but the services were Sunday and Monday, and I think it all came back as stories were being told and poems were being read. I've been crying all morning, and all the thoughts and anger at losing her at age 7 to this terrifying cancer have come back.
Like others here, I have been extremely thankful that Lightning Strike and all of your stories are here; I know I am not alone and that helps immensely. Thank you all so much for sharing your stories and wisdom, and for providing a place to let this all out. I know things will get easier; I have had glimpses of that already, and it will help too when my job starts next week and I am not home alone so much. But for right now I needed to get this out, especially since I thought just a few days ago that I was finally adjusting, and then it all fell apart again and this morning hurt just as much as day one.
Thank you all so much for just being here.
Full Version: Still Hurting
Hi, Elphiecat, please permit me to offer you my sincerest sympathies on the loss of your precious Rocky and Elphie. Losing a beloved companion is never easy regardless of the circumstances or how long we have been blessed with the privilege of their company. And losing two beloved companions in a short period of time is even more devastating.
This grief journey is one of "adjustment" to the physical absence of our beloved companions, and it is one that can only be traveled one day at a time. It is often referred to as a horror roller coaster ride because there are so many ups and downs, twists and turns, and turnarounds - - so many different emotions that can sometimes overwhelm us all at one time and when we least expect them to. Unfortnately there is no "fast forward" or "delete" button to press to make this journey easier - - or go away. This is one of the many reasons why it is so very important for you to know you are among friends here who truly do understand what you are feeling and going through, and to know that we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us.
Elfiecat, thank you so very much for sharing with us your precious Rocky and Elfie. You gave them a loving home - - even when your earthly journey took you physically away from Rocky you still knew he was in a safe and loving place. The bond you developed with Rocky is eternal - - even though you were away from him at school and the normal course of your life - - he is forever in your heart, as is your precious Elfie.
Elfiecat, there will be some good days, there will be some really good days, and there may still be some really hard days as you travel your grief adjustment journey. Please know you are not alone - - you are among friends here - - always.
I hope today is being kind to you, Elfiecat, and that your new job will bring much pleasure and fulfillment to you. Please know that your precious Elficat and Rocky will continue to share in your achievements just as they always have and always will. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Elfiecat, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
This grief journey is one of "adjustment" to the physical absence of our beloved companions, and it is one that can only be traveled one day at a time. It is often referred to as a horror roller coaster ride because there are so many ups and downs, twists and turns, and turnarounds - - so many different emotions that can sometimes overwhelm us all at one time and when we least expect them to. Unfortnately there is no "fast forward" or "delete" button to press to make this journey easier - - or go away. This is one of the many reasons why it is so very important for you to know you are among friends here who truly do understand what you are feeling and going through, and to know that we are here for you for as long and as often as you need us.
Elfiecat, thank you so very much for sharing with us your precious Rocky and Elfie. You gave them a loving home - - even when your earthly journey took you physically away from Rocky you still knew he was in a safe and loving place. The bond you developed with Rocky is eternal - - even though you were away from him at school and the normal course of your life - - he is forever in your heart, as is your precious Elfie.
Elfiecat, there will be some good days, there will be some really good days, and there may still be some really hard days as you travel your grief adjustment journey. Please know you are not alone - - you are among friends here - - always.
I hope today is being kind to you, Elfiecat, and that your new job will bring much pleasure and fulfillment to you. Please know that your precious Elficat and Rocky will continue to share in your achievements just as they always have and always will. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Elfiecat, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
Thank you so much, moon_beam.
The past couple of days have been better. On those days it is hard to believe the pain can feel so distant. But even when the tears are far away, it is easy for the anger to rise as I think about the cancer and how unfair it all seems. I sometimes begin to wander down the road of what-ifs and self-blame and have to jerk myself back to center and remember how terrible that tumor looked and how miserable she was in her last couple of days, and remember that these kinds of things are not in our control and we did the right thing. I can only hope that someday Elphie will guide us to a new love as Tom did for Tracy, and Mischief did for leejaye. I can't believe it's not even been two weeks yet. It feels like forever. As you say, one day at a time...
The past couple of days have been better. On those days it is hard to believe the pain can feel so distant. But even when the tears are far away, it is easy for the anger to rise as I think about the cancer and how unfair it all seems. I sometimes begin to wander down the road of what-ifs and self-blame and have to jerk myself back to center and remember how terrible that tumor looked and how miserable she was in her last couple of days, and remember that these kinds of things are not in our control and we did the right thing. I can only hope that someday Elphie will guide us to a new love as Tom did for Tracy, and Mischief did for leejaye. I can't believe it's not even been two weeks yet. It feels like forever. As you say, one day at a time...
Hello Elphiecat,
I'm SO sorry about the passing of your sweet Ms Elphie. It's SO hard. My Gretta (the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived) went to the Perfect World on April 10, so I'm a little further along than you are on this long and lonesome road. I believed before I found this site and have become absolutely convinced of it since I've been here, that we - you - are one of those truly lucky people who have been blessed by a visit from your spirit animal, the animal who has carried a part of your soul since the beginning of time and a part of whose soul you have carried with you since then. People write here telling stories about this unbelievable bond. It's a miracle. Out of all the billions of people on the earth, our soul-mate has searched for us and found us. The s/he put him or herself in our path where we would be sure to find her. And when we did, and looked into each other's eyes, the instant, overwhelming love let us know that this was the one!
Aren't animals wonderful? These beautiful spirit animals are our other half. They come here to earth, to us, at a special time and they have special missions - to guide us, to comfort us, to nudge us into paths we'de never think of goin on our own, to teach us some life lessons and, most importantly, to love us (millions of times as much as we love them - and THAT's pretty spectacular). Gretta was 9 years old when I adopted her. She was gentle, sweet and kind. One of the things she taught me was the importance and power of just being there. For three and a half years she was there - by my side - and shining out the kindness from her face, so much so that people who met us on walks commented on how kind she was. Usually you have to DO something to be called kind. Gretta taught me that kindness comes from the inside out, that it's a quality, not necessarily an action.
And THE single hardest thing these spirit animals teach us to do is to be unbelievably loving and strong. Whoever made the universe made thier life spans much shorter than ours, so our love has to be put to the supreme test - and agonizing test - we have to knowingly, with our eyes open, take on ourselves the immense pain of separation in order to show our true love form them by setting them free from their sickness and pain while in their physical form. Gold must feel this way when it is put into the refining furnace to purify it. But we pass ... we pass this horrible test (why do they always think we're much stronger than we think ourselves to be!). And we emerge thousands of times stronger - and thousands of time sadder, too.
But love is forever and is infinite. They have loved us and we have loved them since the beginning of time and will continue to love and be loved forever. They have passed back into the Perfect World where they (and we) have come from. Here on this earth, we humans depend entirely on our senses. And when our soul mates pass to the Perfect World, they're still as close to us as they ever were but we just can't see them with our physical eyes or pet them with our physical hands or hear their barks and meouws with our physical ears. That's what makes it hurt SOOOOOOOO bad. A great poet said that they are as close at hand as they ever were.
The first few weeks are horrible. First, it's like someone has shot your heart out and you're bleeding to death. Then you robot-walk through life for a while. Then it's anger and sadness and "if only I could have just one more minute". (Gotta go, my Gretta's younger brother - a 102 # lab-newfie mix is huffing to go outside).
Thank you for sharing your beautiful Elphie's story with us. We're here for you - always and often. Individually we're just blades of grass easily cut, but together we are strong and cannot be broken.
have a peaceful night, Elphiecat, and a good tomorrow.
Gretta's mom
I'm SO sorry about the passing of your sweet Ms Elphie. It's SO hard. My Gretta (the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived) went to the Perfect World on April 10, so I'm a little further along than you are on this long and lonesome road. I believed before I found this site and have become absolutely convinced of it since I've been here, that we - you - are one of those truly lucky people who have been blessed by a visit from your spirit animal, the animal who has carried a part of your soul since the beginning of time and a part of whose soul you have carried with you since then. People write here telling stories about this unbelievable bond. It's a miracle. Out of all the billions of people on the earth, our soul-mate has searched for us and found us. The s/he put him or herself in our path where we would be sure to find her. And when we did, and looked into each other's eyes, the instant, overwhelming love let us know that this was the one!
Aren't animals wonderful? These beautiful spirit animals are our other half. They come here to earth, to us, at a special time and they have special missions - to guide us, to comfort us, to nudge us into paths we'de never think of goin on our own, to teach us some life lessons and, most importantly, to love us (millions of times as much as we love them - and THAT's pretty spectacular). Gretta was 9 years old when I adopted her. She was gentle, sweet and kind. One of the things she taught me was the importance and power of just being there. For three and a half years she was there - by my side - and shining out the kindness from her face, so much so that people who met us on walks commented on how kind she was. Usually you have to DO something to be called kind. Gretta taught me that kindness comes from the inside out, that it's a quality, not necessarily an action.
And THE single hardest thing these spirit animals teach us to do is to be unbelievably loving and strong. Whoever made the universe made thier life spans much shorter than ours, so our love has to be put to the supreme test - and agonizing test - we have to knowingly, with our eyes open, take on ourselves the immense pain of separation in order to show our true love form them by setting them free from their sickness and pain while in their physical form. Gold must feel this way when it is put into the refining furnace to purify it. But we pass ... we pass this horrible test (why do they always think we're much stronger than we think ourselves to be!). And we emerge thousands of times stronger - and thousands of time sadder, too.
But love is forever and is infinite. They have loved us and we have loved them since the beginning of time and will continue to love and be loved forever. They have passed back into the Perfect World where they (and we) have come from. Here on this earth, we humans depend entirely on our senses. And when our soul mates pass to the Perfect World, they're still as close to us as they ever were but we just can't see them with our physical eyes or pet them with our physical hands or hear their barks and meouws with our physical ears. That's what makes it hurt SOOOOOOOO bad. A great poet said that they are as close at hand as they ever were.
The first few weeks are horrible. First, it's like someone has shot your heart out and you're bleeding to death. Then you robot-walk through life for a while. Then it's anger and sadness and "if only I could have just one more minute". (Gotta go, my Gretta's younger brother - a 102 # lab-newfie mix is huffing to go outside).
Thank you for sharing your beautiful Elphie's story with us. We're here for you - always and often. Individually we're just blades of grass easily cut, but together we are strong and cannot be broken.
have a peaceful night, Elphiecat, and a good tomorrow.
Gretta's mom
"But even when the tears are far away, it is easy for the anger to rise as I think about the cancer and how unfair it all seems"
Hi, Elphiecat, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing. You are so right - - it is unfair, and I truly do understand how you're feeling. My number one kitty son Eli joined the angels in December 2006 at 6 years of age with end stage Lymphoma, and in March 2010 my beautiful baby girl Abbygayle (see Abbygayle's journey if you'd like) joined the angels at 6 years of age due to Stage III Fibrosarcoma. My precious Noah, Abbygayle's sibling brother, has beat the "6 year old death sentence" and is now 8 years old. It isn't fair. My Noah should still have his big adopted kitty brother and his baby sister with him, but now he just has me. It hasn't been easy for him to adjust to life "without" his fur family members, but he is my precious baby boy and I am so blessed to have him still with me.
So I do sincerely appreciate your anger. The comfort comes in many forms, and one of them is knowing that you did the very best for your precious Elfie, and that your love for each other is eternal. The painfulness is now adjusting your continued earthly journey without the blessing of your precious Elfie's physical presence. Hopefully as your grief eases you will find a peace and comfort in your heart, Elfiecat, that will help you to know that your precious Elfie is still forever with you - - she is forever a heartbeat close to you. And - - perhaps she is guiding you to the time when you will be able to embrace a new lifetime companion into your heart and home - - when the timing is "right". Just follow your heart, Elfiecat - - you can't go wrong.
Thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. I hope today is treating you kindly. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Elfiecat, and look forward to knowing how things are going for you.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
Hi, Elphiecat, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing. You are so right - - it is unfair, and I truly do understand how you're feeling. My number one kitty son Eli joined the angels in December 2006 at 6 years of age with end stage Lymphoma, and in March 2010 my beautiful baby girl Abbygayle (see Abbygayle's journey if you'd like) joined the angels at 6 years of age due to Stage III Fibrosarcoma. My precious Noah, Abbygayle's sibling brother, has beat the "6 year old death sentence" and is now 8 years old. It isn't fair. My Noah should still have his big adopted kitty brother and his baby sister with him, but now he just has me. It hasn't been easy for him to adjust to life "without" his fur family members, but he is my precious baby boy and I am so blessed to have him still with me.
So I do sincerely appreciate your anger. The comfort comes in many forms, and one of them is knowing that you did the very best for your precious Elfie, and that your love for each other is eternal. The painfulness is now adjusting your continued earthly journey without the blessing of your precious Elfie's physical presence. Hopefully as your grief eases you will find a peace and comfort in your heart, Elfiecat, that will help you to know that your precious Elfie is still forever with you - - she is forever a heartbeat close to you. And - - perhaps she is guiding you to the time when you will be able to embrace a new lifetime companion into your heart and home - - when the timing is "right". Just follow your heart, Elfiecat - - you can't go wrong.
Thank you so much for sharing with us how you're doing. I hope today is treating you kindly. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, Elfiecat, and look forward to knowing how things are going for you.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
Dear Elphiecat, I wanted to respond to your post earlier but I couldn't get the words right . I am so so sorry for the loss of Elphie and know right where you are. When Mischief was diagnosed with cancer we had been to the vet to get a lump on her lip checked out - it turned out to be nothing but they found more lumps under her arm that we knew nothing about, they aspirated these and found she had cancer, we had the option of going with surgery called a complete mammary strip - a massive operation, and like your Elphie she didn't cope all that well with the initial surgery, she was miserable in that Elizabethan collar too (We ended up putting a baby's singlet on her so she couldn't chew the stitches, strangely she didn't mind this)...she was also an older cat (16) and the vet (and my partner and myself) questioned whether we should put her through that for what could be very little gain, it was a quality of life question at the core...we managed her cancer with meds for another year before the meds destroyed her kidneys and we lost her in a week....this is definitely a journey of one step and one day at a time, sometimes you take two steps back, it feels like no time and all the time in the world has passed since your little one left this physical existence, but Elphie will always be with you, you can't share a life and love like this and ever be entirely separated, I hope you can smile through the tears today and that the world is kind to you
Hello elphiecat,
I want you to know that I empathize completely, as I just lost my soulmate cat Dzamba at the too young age of 7. You are not alone in feeling anger, that kind of anger that is so hard because it isn't clear exactly who or what to be angry at, other than maybe some abstract idea like "fate". I felt cheated out of half if not more of his life.
Elphie is gorgeous and the sadness at losing her resonates to my marrow. Take care of yourself and keep close company with Annabelle, you are in my thoughts.
Sincerely,
Chris
I want you to know that I empathize completely, as I just lost my soulmate cat Dzamba at the too young age of 7. You are not alone in feeling anger, that kind of anger that is so hard because it isn't clear exactly who or what to be angry at, other than maybe some abstract idea like "fate". I felt cheated out of half if not more of his life.
Elphie is gorgeous and the sadness at losing her resonates to my marrow. Take care of yourself and keep close company with Annabelle, you are in my thoughts.
Sincerely,
Chris
Hello Elphiecat
Yes, sickness is the most unfair thing there is. It strikes when it wants, who it wants, how it wants .... and in the end it doesn't even matter. Sickness takes the ones we love. That IS something to be angry about ... but as you say ... at what, at whom? I think it's OK to just be plain roaring MAD at the injustice that we feel when our dearest friends just up and disappear. Especially that they have to hurt so much on the way to the Promised Land. It's the frustration, the utter frustration of the "why, why WHY?" that makes us slap tables and punch sofa cushions. I don't know about you but I always end up crying, because the real underlying feeling is the agony of loss and of missing .... everything. My Gretta (the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived) passed on April 10 and I was a wreck for at least 3 weeks. I mean a wreck ... although I robot-walked through dumb stuff like working (gotta eat!). It's truly as the wise old people say, tomorrow is not a given. We think we know what the average life span of our babies is - in fact my vet told me Gretta had a "good three years at least" and she was gone in 18 months. But it's not the time we DONT have that counts ... it's the time we DO have that counts. To preserve those good times, the first night I was home alone I velcroed two of her snowsuits togther to make a pillow and slept with it for many a night! I even slept on her dog bed (it's a big orthotic one) for a few nights.
It will ease ... but I don't think it ever stops hurting. Although some people say eventually just the good memories remain ... but I don't know.
Anyway, my heart is with you, my best wishes and some strength I have left over, too.
All we can do is breathe in and out and try to live a life that honors the love our soul mates give us (love is forever!)
Gretta's mom
Yes, sickness is the most unfair thing there is. It strikes when it wants, who it wants, how it wants .... and in the end it doesn't even matter. Sickness takes the ones we love. That IS something to be angry about ... but as you say ... at what, at whom? I think it's OK to just be plain roaring MAD at the injustice that we feel when our dearest friends just up and disappear. Especially that they have to hurt so much on the way to the Promised Land. It's the frustration, the utter frustration of the "why, why WHY?" that makes us slap tables and punch sofa cushions. I don't know about you but I always end up crying, because the real underlying feeling is the agony of loss and of missing .... everything. My Gretta (the kindest chocolate lab who ever lived) passed on April 10 and I was a wreck for at least 3 weeks. I mean a wreck ... although I robot-walked through dumb stuff like working (gotta eat!). It's truly as the wise old people say, tomorrow is not a given. We think we know what the average life span of our babies is - in fact my vet told me Gretta had a "good three years at least" and she was gone in 18 months. But it's not the time we DONT have that counts ... it's the time we DO have that counts. To preserve those good times, the first night I was home alone I velcroed two of her snowsuits togther to make a pillow and slept with it for many a night! I even slept on her dog bed (it's a big orthotic one) for a few nights.
It will ease ... but I don't think it ever stops hurting. Although some people say eventually just the good memories remain ... but I don't know.
Anyway, my heart is with you, my best wishes and some strength I have left over, too.
All we can do is breathe in and out and try to live a life that honors the love our soul mates give us (love is forever!)
Gretta's mom
Hello everyone,
I apologize for the huge gap in time since my last post! Since the new job started it has been hard to find time to sit down and write. But I wanted to make sure I came back and at the very least thanked you all so much for your kind and supportive words — I know it has been said before but it's true, this community is amazing and I know I would be much worse off if I hadn't found you all.
Gretta's mom, thank you for your beautiful words. You are right, we are so lucky to know and love such wonderful spirits. I always think of the Death Cab for Cutie song, "What Sarah Said":
Moon_beam, leejaye, and ChrisL, thank you so much for sharing Eli, Abbygayle, Mischief, and Dzamba's stories. It is of great comfort to know that others have gone through it and come out OK. It definitely feels like no time and all the time in the world has passed, such a strange experience of time.
Gretta's mom, as you say, it has gotten easier, but it definitely still hurts. It helps a lot that the job has kept me busy, but I still think of Elphie every day. Two weeks ago we went to a folk music festival and saw a performer, Tracy Grammer, who unexpectedly lost her creative partner, Dave Carter, to a heart attack in 2002 (I can't believe it's been that long already). He was only 49, and died exactly one week before he and Tracy were to perform at this annual festival; Dave was much loved in this community and it was a very emotional festival experience that year. Tracy still performs many of the songs Dave wrote, and his song "When I Go" still brings tears to my eyes—wow, nine years later.
I cried again that weekend for Dave, and for Rocky, and for Elphie... it had been a few weeks at that point since I'd cried, but that song brought it all back. And then again, today, all it took was reading a blog post of a stranger's loss of their beloved dog. She lost her dog 10 days after we lost Elphie. I responded to her post, and hoped that I was able to pass along some of the incredible love and support you all have shown me. I also sent her the link to this forum in case it might help.
Annabelle seems very lonely, bored, and needy without Elphie around, so we are thinking of getting another cat. I hope to keep you all posted if/when that time comes.
I apologize for the huge gap in time since my last post! Since the new job started it has been hard to find time to sit down and write. But I wanted to make sure I came back and at the very least thanked you all so much for your kind and supportive words — I know it has been said before but it's true, this community is amazing and I know I would be much worse off if I hadn't found you all.
Gretta's mom, thank you for your beautiful words. You are right, we are so lucky to know and love such wonderful spirits. I always think of the Death Cab for Cutie song, "What Sarah Said":
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds
But I knew that you were a truth I would rather lose than to have never lain beside at all
Moon_beam, leejaye, and ChrisL, thank you so much for sharing Eli, Abbygayle, Mischief, and Dzamba's stories. It is of great comfort to know that others have gone through it and come out OK. It definitely feels like no time and all the time in the world has passed, such a strange experience of time.
Gretta's mom, as you say, it has gotten easier, but it definitely still hurts. It helps a lot that the job has kept me busy, but I still think of Elphie every day. Two weeks ago we went to a folk music festival and saw a performer, Tracy Grammer, who unexpectedly lost her creative partner, Dave Carter, to a heart attack in 2002 (I can't believe it's been that long already). He was only 49, and died exactly one week before he and Tracy were to perform at this annual festival; Dave was much loved in this community and it was a very emotional festival experience that year. Tracy still performs many of the songs Dave wrote, and his song "When I Go" still brings tears to my eyes—wow, nine years later.
And should you glimpse my wandering form out on the borderline
Between death and resurrection and the council of the pines
Do not worry for my comfort, do not sorrow for me so
All your diamond tears will rise up and adorn the sky beside me when I go
I cried again that weekend for Dave, and for Rocky, and for Elphie... it had been a few weeks at that point since I'd cried, but that song brought it all back. And then again, today, all it took was reading a blog post of a stranger's loss of their beloved dog. She lost her dog 10 days after we lost Elphie. I responded to her post, and hoped that I was able to pass along some of the incredible love and support you all have shown me. I also sent her the link to this forum in case it might help.
Annabelle seems very lonely, bored, and needy without Elphie around, so we are thinking of getting another cat. I hope to keep you all posted if/when that time comes.
Hi, Elphiecat, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing. Yes, this grief adjustment journey is one of many ups and downs, twists and turns, and turnarounds. "Time" goes by - - one day at a time - - but it seems like we'e on "automatic pilot" for most of it.
Elphiecat, please know we are here for you and with you - - always - - and rest assured we look forward to knowing how you're doing. I will look forward to sharing your news whenever you embrace a new companion, and to knowing how your Annabelle is doing, too. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
Elphiecat, please know we are here for you and with you - - always - - and rest assured we look forward to knowing how you're doing. I will look forward to sharing your news whenever you embrace a new companion, and to knowing how your Annabelle is doing, too. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
Hi Elphiecat
How is your heart? I hope little Elphie is sending some rays of comfort to you fro the Perfect World. I surely connected with your songs. I'm an old folkie and as still making up Gretta-verses to old folk songs. My favorite is "Hobo's Lullaby." There's a song for every feeling - at least a melody for every one. Sometimes they hurt - like now when our loved one is invisible. Sometimes they comfort - like when we feel love and care from people like our LS friends. And maybe someday they'll return to being happy and energizing and dance-making like they were in better times. Two of the Gretta-lines to Hobo's Lullaby are
Listen for us doggie playin'
That's the soul dog's lullaby.
Have a blessed day, Elphiecat, knowing that you are always in my thoughts and prayers.
Gretta's mom
How is your heart? I hope little Elphie is sending some rays of comfort to you fro the Perfect World. I surely connected with your songs. I'm an old folkie and as still making up Gretta-verses to old folk songs. My favorite is "Hobo's Lullaby." There's a song for every feeling - at least a melody for every one. Sometimes they hurt - like now when our loved one is invisible. Sometimes they comfort - like when we feel love and care from people like our LS friends. And maybe someday they'll return to being happy and energizing and dance-making like they were in better times. Two of the Gretta-lines to Hobo's Lullaby are
Listen for us doggie playin'
That's the soul dog's lullaby.
Have a blessed day, Elphiecat, knowing that you are always in my thoughts and prayers.
Gretta's mom
Hi, Gretta's mom. My heart is doing OK, for the most part. Just little moments of emptiness and hurt here and there as random things remind me of her absence. I am able to smile and think of the good times when I'm talking with others about her; it's when I'm alone that it gets hard.
I agree that there's a melody for every feeling. I'm usually much more moved by melody than by words, but sometimes the two work magic together, as they do in the songs I mentioned. The title line from the Death Cab for Cutie song is "I am thinking of what Sarah said... Love is watching someone die." That just breaks my heart every time.
Just looked up the Hobo's Lullaby and it's lovely, as are your lyrics. Not sure how I didn't know it before, considering Arlo Guthrie covered it. I guess I don't listen to the older folk stuff as much, although we did go see Arlo twice — once in upstate NY, accompanied by his son Abe, daughter Sarah, and son-in-law Johnny Irion (and during which he told his daughter, "Sarah, F# is not a folk key"
); and the second time in Manhattan, in the lovely Rockefeller Park overlooking a sunset on the Hudson River, with the Mammals opening. Beautiful evening. (If you're not familiar, the Mammals were a young folk band whose members included Ruth Ungar, daughter of Jay and Molly; and Tao Rodriguez-Seeger, grandson of — you guessed it — Pete Seeger.)
Always fun to meet another folkie! I hope the days are treating you well, Gretta's mom.
I agree that there's a melody for every feeling. I'm usually much more moved by melody than by words, but sometimes the two work magic together, as they do in the songs I mentioned. The title line from the Death Cab for Cutie song is "I am thinking of what Sarah said... Love is watching someone die." That just breaks my heart every time.
Just looked up the Hobo's Lullaby and it's lovely, as are your lyrics. Not sure how I didn't know it before, considering Arlo Guthrie covered it. I guess I don't listen to the older folk stuff as much, although we did go see Arlo twice — once in upstate NY, accompanied by his son Abe, daughter Sarah, and son-in-law Johnny Irion (and during which he told his daughter, "Sarah, F# is not a folk key"
); and the second time in Manhattan, in the lovely Rockefeller Park overlooking a sunset on the Hudson River, with the Mammals opening. Beautiful evening. (If you're not familiar, the Mammals were a young folk band whose members included Ruth Ungar, daughter of Jay and Molly; and Tao Rodriguez-Seeger, grandson of — you guessed it — Pete Seeger.)Always fun to meet another folkie! I hope the days are treating you well, Gretta's mom.
Hi Elphiecat
Hooray - another folkie! Between folk songs, protest songs and very old gospel songs there truly is a song for evey feeling and occasion. And i guess if you think about it, they're all about the same thing - the thing we're all here on Lightning Strike going through: the realization that life is essentially a tragedy (as opposed to a comedy) and despite knowing that and experiencing it and welcoming it, our spirits and wills are undaunted. We SING!! And our hearts LOVE even knowing what the end is. Now THAT'S courage and strength.
Just a few random ramblings about music and the human condition ... even though I'm not a performaer, music of these kinds has played as continues to play a huge part in my life and my heart.
I hope your heart is humming a little melody that is giving it a little comfort, a teeny tiny bit of joy, even.
In song ......
Gretta's mom
Hooray - another folkie! Between folk songs, protest songs and very old gospel songs there truly is a song for evey feeling and occasion. And i guess if you think about it, they're all about the same thing - the thing we're all here on Lightning Strike going through: the realization that life is essentially a tragedy (as opposed to a comedy) and despite knowing that and experiencing it and welcoming it, our spirits and wills are undaunted. We SING!! And our hearts LOVE even knowing what the end is. Now THAT'S courage and strength.
Just a few random ramblings about music and the human condition ... even though I'm not a performaer, music of these kinds has played as continues to play a huge part in my life and my heart.
I hope your heart is humming a little melody that is giving it a little comfort, a teeny tiny bit of joy, even.
In song ......
Gretta's mom
I heard a story on NPR today about miscarriages and "What makes it worse is the fact that no social custom has evolved to help us through the loss." The commentator said many things about the experience that I feel are true about pet losses as well, and I wanted to share them here.
"A miscarriage is tragic enough by itself. What makes it worse is the fact that no social custom has evolved to help us through the loss. There is no ceremony, no coming together, no ritualized support... And it's not as if life stopped, or even slowed down to allow us a moment to reflect. We had jobs to get to, kids to take care of. Real sadness seemed an indulgence we could not afford. In the months since, I have learned something about this kind of grief. It is not a luxury, but an essential part of healing. So this weekend, after the kids are in bed, Annmarie and I will do something that may seem a little crazy. We will head into the garden with a bulb we've been saving. We will bury it, say a few words, and hold each other. We will finally have our ceremony. I suspect that watching the first green shoot push up through the earth will hurt. Every time we see it, we will be reminded of what happened to us. But that's alright. Grief cannot be buried forever. With enough time, and a little sunlight, it might just transform itself into something that aches a little less."
The whole story is here: http://www.npr.org/2011/08/19/139650471/af...ury-of-grieving
We still haven't done anything with Elphie's ashes; they are still in the box they came in. This story makes me want to do the same for Elphie. I'm crying now, but I'm finding that it's not as sharp a pain as before... The longing is less intense, and it's now just vague wishing that we could have her back, that she wouldn't have had to go through the pain and discomfort of the tumor and surgery, that she could have had the opportunity to grow old. I can't believe it's been 2 months.
"A miscarriage is tragic enough by itself. What makes it worse is the fact that no social custom has evolved to help us through the loss. There is no ceremony, no coming together, no ritualized support... And it's not as if life stopped, or even slowed down to allow us a moment to reflect. We had jobs to get to, kids to take care of. Real sadness seemed an indulgence we could not afford. In the months since, I have learned something about this kind of grief. It is not a luxury, but an essential part of healing. So this weekend, after the kids are in bed, Annmarie and I will do something that may seem a little crazy. We will head into the garden with a bulb we've been saving. We will bury it, say a few words, and hold each other. We will finally have our ceremony. I suspect that watching the first green shoot push up through the earth will hurt. Every time we see it, we will be reminded of what happened to us. But that's alright. Grief cannot be buried forever. With enough time, and a little sunlight, it might just transform itself into something that aches a little less."
The whole story is here: http://www.npr.org/2011/08/19/139650471/af...ury-of-grieving
We still haven't done anything with Elphie's ashes; they are still in the box they came in. This story makes me want to do the same for Elphie. I'm crying now, but I'm finding that it's not as sharp a pain as before... The longing is less intense, and it's now just vague wishing that we could have her back, that she wouldn't have had to go through the pain and discomfort of the tumor and surgery, that she could have had the opportunity to grow old. I can't believe it's been 2 months.
Hi, Elphiecat, thank you so very much for sharing with us how you're doing, and for sharing with us that wonderful item you heard on the radio. It is very poignant and appropriate.
"I'm crying now, but I'm finding that it's not as sharp a pain as before... The longing is less intense, and it's now just vague wishing that we could have her back, that she wouldn't have had to go through the pain and discomfort of the tumor and surgery, that she could have had the opportunity to grow old. I can't believe it's been 2 months."
Elphiecat, what you are feeling is the process of normal grief. But I wish to reassure you that, even though the intensity of your grief will ease with time, you will NEVER forget your beloved Elphie. No matter how much time passes in your continued earthly journey she will always and forever be a part of you - - she is always a heartbeat close to you. I promise you this, Elphiecat.
I thank you again so much for sharing the article you heard on the radio today with us. I hope you will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Elphie's sweet Living Spirit to comfort and cheer you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
"I'm crying now, but I'm finding that it's not as sharp a pain as before... The longing is less intense, and it's now just vague wishing that we could have her back, that she wouldn't have had to go through the pain and discomfort of the tumor and surgery, that she could have had the opportunity to grow old. I can't believe it's been 2 months."
Elphiecat, what you are feeling is the process of normal grief. But I wish to reassure you that, even though the intensity of your grief will ease with time, you will NEVER forget your beloved Elphie. No matter how much time passes in your continued earthly journey she will always and forever be a part of you - - she is always a heartbeat close to you. I promise you this, Elphiecat.
I thank you again so much for sharing the article you heard on the radio today with us. I hope you will have a very peaceful evening blessed with your beloved Elphie's sweet Living Spirit to comfort and cheer you. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers, and look forward to knowing how you're doing.
Peace and blessings,
moon_beam
Hi Elphiecat
I'm glad to hear your heart is doing a little bit better. Sometimes i think mine is, too, and then I read someone's story here and it's all right back again. My new "son", Rufus, a 102# black lab-newfie mix, helps a lot. He's a boy so he's not real affectionate but he's a great comfort - he's another living being here in the house, someone to whom I can give my love and care. I've never thought about it before but miscarriage IS another horrible loss experience that our society has no official way of acknowledging - no ritees, no rituals, no prayers, no meals brought over (casseroles, where I live!) - and no understanding that the grief and sorrow is overwhelming and lasts forever - just like the loss of a special, spirit animal.
Time to find another song and write another message to Gretta and to all the doggies and kitties and bunnies and everyone else who has "made it" into the Perfect World and are now calling us still in this world to live lives worthy of their love.
Have a good weekend, Elphiecat.
Gretta's mom
I'm glad to hear your heart is doing a little bit better. Sometimes i think mine is, too, and then I read someone's story here and it's all right back again. My new "son", Rufus, a 102# black lab-newfie mix, helps a lot. He's a boy so he's not real affectionate but he's a great comfort - he's another living being here in the house, someone to whom I can give my love and care. I've never thought about it before but miscarriage IS another horrible loss experience that our society has no official way of acknowledging - no ritees, no rituals, no prayers, no meals brought over (casseroles, where I live!) - and no understanding that the grief and sorrow is overwhelming and lasts forever - just like the loss of a special, spirit animal.
Time to find another song and write another message to Gretta and to all the doggies and kitties and bunnies and everyone else who has "made it" into the Perfect World and are now calling us still in this world to live lives worthy of their love.
Have a good weekend, Elphiecat.
Gretta's mom
Thanks, moon_beam and Gretta's mom.
For a while there I was getting emails for each new topic and reading them was derailing my day as I read someone else's story and all the pain came back. I've had to unsubscribe and come back to read them on my own schedule, when I'm emotionally ready for it.
Gretta's mom, I'm glad your Rufus is bringing you comfort, and I'm glad for him that he is so lucky to receive it! I think we are ready for a new kitty love, but have to wait until our work and extracurriculars calm down a bit so that we'll have some time to do a proper supervised introduction for Annabelle. She confirmed a couple of days ago that she still is very fierce with kitties she doesn't recognize outside; not sure how she'll react to a new one inside. We've heard and read that usually a younger cat is better so that the hierarchy is clear when the new cat comes in, so that will be our plan.
For a while there I was getting emails for each new topic and reading them was derailing my day as I read someone else's story and all the pain came back. I've had to unsubscribe and come back to read them on my own schedule, when I'm emotionally ready for it.
Gretta's mom, I'm glad your Rufus is bringing you comfort, and I'm glad for him that he is so lucky to receive it! I think we are ready for a new kitty love, but have to wait until our work and extracurriculars calm down a bit so that we'll have some time to do a proper supervised introduction for Annabelle. She confirmed a couple of days ago that she still is very fierce with kitties she doesn't recognize outside; not sure how she'll react to a new one inside. We've heard and read that usually a younger cat is better so that the hierarchy is clear when the new cat comes in, so that will be our plan.
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