I Miss My Sweet Pea.

Monday, July 20, 2015

My sweet pea, my Hailey.

It's been a year to the date and time.  (I scheduled this post, first ever.)  How the hell did that happen, an entire year went by.  It feels like only a week has gone by, at best.  My heart says the awfulness, the worst day of my life happened just this morning.

See, here's the thing about grief, something I never ever ever wanted to learn more about.  It is lonely. Even if you're lucky enough to have someone to, I don't know the right words, share it? with, someone who feels the aches too, it's still a lonely thing.

I rarely mention how I'm feeling, what I'm thinking, how I managed that day, how many tears were shed.  Nor bother anyone with my sorrow.  Ya know?  It feels like no one wants to hear it, no one relates, or folks don't have patience for my despondent drivel.  Why would they want to hear bummer stuff, ya know?  I know in my head that's not true, maybe, but I see now why people feel so alone and distant after a major loss.

And I don't feel like myself either.  I haven't felt like "me" in a year.  I lost Hailey that horrible morning, but I also lost myself.

I'm sure it's uncomfortable for others on the other side of the fence, not knowing what to say, to ask, not to ask, offer, share, console or not, but mostly not knowing what to say.  Fearing they'll say the wrong thing.  I can understand that.  Sometimes the awkward silence is worse though.

Folks who didn't experience the loss with you maybe think you should be over it by now.  Or think you've got a few screws loose if you express any kind of mournfulness still.  "Buck up, buttercup."  Sorry, can't.  In my own time.

"She was just a dog," maybe they say.  No.  No she wasn't.  She was my best friend of twelve years, even if she didn't talk (much) or didn't have opposable thumbs (she did).

She was more than a best friend.  We both knew what the other was thinking.  I so miss that sense, that comfort.  I miss speaking all the dopey nicknames I had for her, the silly phrases I would say to her.  Singing "You are My Sunshine..." to her.  Touching her fluffy thick, stinky fur.  Putting our foreheads together like we always did.  Like we did the night before she died.

We counted on each other, we relied, depended, cared, and protected each other.

A chunk of my soul is missing.

I keep waiting for all the good memories to come but I can't generate more than half of one or two.  I don't know what's wrong and I end up worrying a.) they'll never come or b.) too much time will pass and I won't be able to remember.  What a horrible feeling, for someone I love so much.

Mike reassured me the other day that they're there, they'll come, I'm just not able to right now.

More than waiting for the memories to come, I feel like I'm always waiting for her to come home.

A lot of people didn't like her; she scared people because of her own fearfulness.  Fear imprint time in a puppy is amazingly critical.

People said rude things to me about me and/or about her, thought I was a bad mom, thought I didn't train her right, didn't do enough, she should have been put down.

She was the sweetest, most loving girl who happened to be afraid of people and not afraid to show it.  She just wanted to be loved and she deserved every ounce of mine and more.  I felt like, and still feel like, I hadn't given her enough.

She was a very lucky girl.

What's worse, all those unresolved feelings with her cancer...Like I made some wrong choices, didn't ask some questions I should have, didn't speak up when I should have, didn't listen when I should have, should have one-and-done with the chemo, shoulda woulda coulda, if if if.

I cannot let myself go down that thorny road of thought though.

So I'm sad.  Very terribly sad.  I'm heartbroken.  Crushed.  Empty.

My heart feels made of lead, heavy and thick, trudging along as best it can, slowly thumping a dull hard thud in an hollow cavern.  I still can't process any of this.  To this day, I am two seconds away from streaming tears at every given moment.

I can't find the right words for any of this.

And how I feel feels so unfair to Finn.  Mike and I agree, we adopted too soon.  Under no circumstances could we have not brought Finn home though.  He needed us.

I do all the things for him I did for Hailey except one:  I haven't been able to say the magic three words to him.  And I feel terrible for it.  I look at him sometimes and miss her -- so unfair to a guy who's his own guy, deserving of all the good we gave Hailey but for him.

I clipped this poem below from PetRescueRX Facebook page.  They are a fantastic pet supply site, by the way.  Not only do they have great prices, they donate the majority of their profits to the care of animals.  We ordered Hailey's Percorten from them for her Addison's Disease.

Anyway, this poem.  I can't read more than the first five or six words.  I instantly devolve into sitting in a pool of my own making, devoid of any liquids left in my body.  So, I haven't read it.  If it's bad, let me know:

"For those pets we have loved and lost! -
I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying, You found it hard to sleep.
I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear,
"It's me, I haven't left you, I'm well, I'm fine, I'm here."
I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea,
You were thinking of the many times, your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at the shops today, Your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.
I was with you at my grave today, You tend it with such care.
I want to re-assure you, that I'm not lying there.
I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said " it's me."
You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know, that I was standing there.
It's possible for me, to be so near you everyday.
To say to you with certainty, "I never went away."
You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew...
In the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.
The day is over... I smile and watch you yawning
and say "good-night, God bless, I'll see you in the morning."
And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide,
I'll rush across to greet you and we'll stand, side by side.
I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out...then come home to be with me.

Author ~ Missing You poem By Colleen Fitzsimmons/ In memory of Shadow & Sexy Sadie"

This was so hard to write, this post.  It took several days, several edits.  Several tissues.  Even in re-reading it (except the poem), it doesn't say what I want it to say, doesn't show you what's in my heart.  

I love and miss you, baby girl.  xoxo  

Thanks for reading.


  1. Beautiful post. Needing some tissues here myself. There are some things you get over, and other things you get through. Dogs not only work their way into our hearts, they become entwined with our souls. That's why losing them is so hard. Hugs to you...

    1. Beautiful comments Jen, thank you. You're so very right. Hugs to you too and welcome back home.

  2. I agree with JenKellerArt...if you are an animal lover in the slightest then losing a fuzzy companion is always hard. I'm so sorry your struggling but I think sharing like you've done is therapudic. The poem was a good one and made me cry thinking of animal companions I've lost in the past.


    1. Thanks so much Tania. Thanks too for letting me know about the poem.


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