Grief

Disclaimer: my experience with grief does not compare with so so many people in the world who have faced it in far more dire circumstances. I have not been to war, I have not lost a spouse or a child. I appreciate what I have and the perspective I try to hold is vital.

Nonetheless, I grieve over losing my Dad and my Mom. I also grieve when i lose a pet. As trivial as that may sound next to someone else’s loss, the days I lost a loved pet are seared into my memory.

I have regrets over how I have dealt with some of this.

My dad had Alzheimer’s disease. This must be one of the worst ways to go imagineable. He was an intelligent man, highly articulate, precise in his communications. Alzheimers trapped him inside his own body. I could see how frustrated he was. The last time I saw him, he was lying in bed, and it was clearly near the end. Mom (who was healthy) had suggested I come visit – she knew he was close to dying. I had my young son with me, but we decided that seeing his Grampy wasted away would not be the best memory for Jack. I went in the bedroom alone. Dad saw me. He recognized me. He made a couple of noises to me and tried to gesture. Mom watched this and marveled that Dad was trying to communicate with his oldest son at this late stage of his disease. I did nothing. I said hi to my Dad and stayed for a minute, but I didn’t hug him, I didn’t talk to him and say my farewells in an earnest way. I regret that last visit so much. I wish I had just told him I loved him. I did love him, and I should have told him. It makes me sad to look back on how weak I was at that moment.

One of our favorite pets died in a vet’s office. She was a beautiful dog, so sweet and so much fun. She was my daughter’s dog, but the family marveled over her. Addie was a big girl and when she got sick she went downhill fast. I think she was only 9 years old when we took her to the emergency vet for the final time. They made it clear that putting her to sleep was the kind thing to do. They asked my wife and I if we’d like to come into the back room and say goodbye. My wife couldn’t do it, but I did. I walked in the back and Addie was lying on the table. She saw me and her eyes lit up; she tried to get up, but couldn’t. I walked over and petted her for the last time. I gave her a kiss and then I left. I wish I had stayed, so that I was the last thing she saw before she died. I was crying too hard (as I am now) and in a moment of weakness I walked away and left her to the vet.

I hope I have learned from these two moments of weakness. They haunt me. Dad tried to communicate with me. Addie just wanted to be with me. I know that these are small things in the scheme of life, but they do haunt me.

I love you Dad. I think of you often and miss you more than you know.

You too, Addie….know that I will be there next time.

There – I have admitted something in writing that I never did before. I think reading this novel about grief inspired me to share this…probably with nobody, but what the heck. At least I wrote it and got it out.