Dear Sian,
Tears were, and still are, rolling as I read your post about precious Willow. Even when we know that time is near and we have time to prepare as best we can it is so so hard to say goodbye but when "That Day" sneaks up on us all of a sudden it is especially difficult.
When my beloved Squirt had to leave this life I felt the way you do...lost and not sure how to go on, what I was supposed to do. All I knew was pain and anguish so deep I would fall to the floor screaming and crying. She was everything to me. When my adult daughter passed away suddenly it was Squirt who saved my life. If not for her, I would be with my child. But Squirt needed me so for her I stayed. When she left, all that agony came roaring back ten-fold and I truly wasn't sure I would survive this loss. That was in 2014 and I still cry for her today. There are times I still hear her coming down the hall or shuffling around in my closet where she liked to hang out or barking at me to hurry with her dinner. Both tears and laughter come with these times today. The main thing this tells me is something I already know but tend to forget and that is that she is always with me...just as your beloved Willow will always be with you.
It's been nearly 10 years since my Squirt had to leave but I know that she has been watching over me and loving me all those years. I know because she has sent many signs of her presence. I believe in time you too will share experiences like hearing Willow or seeing something completely out of place that only she would have known you would notice. You will know then, just as I know now, that your beloved Willow is by your side always. Always loving you, always grateful for the love and life you gave her.
Until then, grieve as much and as long as you need. There is only one rule to grieving - do no harm. Other than that, nada. There is no time limit, no "right" way to grieve, nothing you should or shouldn't do to meet other's expectations - "they" don't matter in this. Cry, scream, yell, throw things, beat a tree with a 2x4, dig a 6' deep hole...whatever it takes for you to survive and learn how to carry this loss. I wish I could tell you that time will take this pain away but it won't. BUT time does allow us to do that one thing...learn how to live with the pain, to carry it in us like another bone. The pain doesn't change, we do. We grow larger around our pain and in that growth we learn much about ourselves and others while loving our precious babies more and more and more.
My deepest sympathy and empathy,
Leslie
If you ever love an animal,
there are three days in your life you will always remember.
The first is a day, blessed with happiness,
when you bring home your young new friend.
You may have spent weeks deciding on a breed.
You may have asked numerous opinions of many vets,
or done long research in finding a breeder.
Or, perhaps in a fleeting moment,
you may have just chosen that silly looking mutt in a shelter —
simply because something in its eyes reached your heart.
But when you bring that chosen pet home,
and watch it explore, and claim its special place in your hall or front room —
and when you feel it brush against you for the first time —
it instills a feeling of pure love
you will carry with you through the many years to come.
The second day will occur eight or nine or ten years later.
It will be a day like any other.
Routine and unexceptional.
But, for a surprising instant,
you will look at your longtime friend
and see age where you once saw youth.
You will see slow deliberate steps
where you once saw energy.
And you will see sleep where you once saw activity.
So you will begin to adjust your friend's diet —
and you may add a pill or two to her food.
And you may feel a growing fear deep within yourself,
which bodes of a coming emptiness.
And you will feel this uneasy feeling, on and off,
until the third day finally arrives.
And on this day — if your friend and God have not decided for you,
then you will be faced with making a decision of your own —
on behalf of your lifelong friend,
and with the guidance of your own deepest Spirit.
But whichever way your friend eventually leaves you —
you will feel as alone as a single star
in the dark night sky.
If you are wise, you will let the tears flow
as freely and as often as they must.
And if you are typical,
you will find that not many in your circle
of family or human friends
will be able to understand your grief, or comfort you.
But if you are true to the love
of the pet you cherished through the many joy-filled years,
you may find that a soul — a bit smaller in size than your own —
seems to walk with you, at times, during the lonely days to come.
And at moments when you least expect
anything out of the ordinary to happen,
you may feel something brush against your leg — very, very lightly.
And looking down at the place
where your dear, perhaps dearest, friend used to lie —
you will remember those three significant days.
The memory will most likely be painful,
and leave an ache in your heart —
As time passes the ache will come and go
as if it has a life of its own.
You will both reject it and embrace it,
and it may confuse you.
If you reject it, it will depress you.
If you embrace it, it will deepen you.
Either way, it will still be an ache.
But there will be, I assure you, a fourth day when —
along with the memory of your pet —
and piercing through the heaviness in your heart —
there will come a realization that belongs only to you.
It will be as unique and strong
as our relationship with each animal we have loved, and lost.
This realization takes the form of a Living Love —
Like the heavenly scent of a rose
that remains after the petals have wilted,
this Love will remain and grow—
and be there for us to remember.
It is a love we have earned.
It is the legacy our pets leave us when they go —
And it is a gift we may keep with us as long as we live.
It is a Love which is ours alone —
And until we ourselves leave,
perhaps to join our Beloved Pets —
It is a Love that we will always possess.
by Martin Scot Kosins,
found in Angel Pawprints : Reflections On Loving and Losing a Canine Companion
