Writing any sort of post is almost impossible for me now. I know you understand.
All my energy is focused on getting through the day and doing my work. Throughout the day, images and memories of my little girl are constantly in my head. I often find myself aimlessly walking around the apartment.
A couple of mornings ago, I sobbed all morning long. First, by myself, sitting on the sofa. Then, in a conversation with my sister. Then on the phone with Don. And much the same thing happens every day. Yesterday, it was Don’s turn.
There really isn’t any way to explain the profound, powerful, and magical presence that Scout was in our lives. She had more than a touch of the divine. She was an old soul. She taught us more than I can say. We mourn her. We are simply devastated.
Some people – not, I believe, any of you – will grow impatient with our grief. They won’t understand. If anyone says ‘But she lived a long life,’ or worse, ‘It’s just a dog’ I will deck them.
Truly.
Just as the fact that my parents lived long lives has absolutely nothing to do with the depth of my grief or how quickly I should ‘get over it’, neither does the length of Scout’s life.
I won’t even address the ‘just a dog’ way of thinking.
I’ll get to the point. I lost my mother less than 2 years ago. I lost my father 3 months ago. And now, I’ve lost my daughter. I’ve hit a wall of grief that has been steadily building since April 24, 2014 – the day my mother died.
And now it has exploded.
That’s where I am.
Romeo and Juliet is going very well; it’s a beautiful production and the audiences are really loving it. Beautiful performances. Beautiful direction by Darko. I’m honored to be a part of it.
I am preparing for a Master Class on Shakespeare that I’m teaching on Monday. I’m teaching it to the the seniors from the BFA Acting program at the Hartt School (University of Hartford). We’ll work through their Shakespeare monologues. This requires a fair amount of prep on my part. It’s keeping me occupied.
I’m trying to keep up with my blog reading, but frankly, I have no patience with endless decorating posts or Valentine’s Day posts or any of that sort of thing. It all seems so trivial. It isn’t, of course, and I mean no disrespect, it’s just where I am at the moment.
Thank you again and again for your kind words, for your compassion, for your love for our girl. I know you understand and that has given me enormous comfort these last six days. To say I treasure each and every one of you is an understatement.
Posting daily? Not sure when that will resume, but not for a bit.
Oh, Claudia, I am so sorry for your losses. I admire that you can focus on your work right now and give to those who benefit so much from your knowledge and devotion.
Thank you, Sylvia. It helps – and, really – I have no choice. Which is a good thing.
Just wanted to give you and Don a big ((HUG)). Take as long as you need, there are no rules. We are all here for you.
Thank you, Nancy.
Claudia, please don’t apologize to us for anything! I understand your pain completely. I am glad is going well for you. Continue to take care of yourself first. Doris
Thank you, Doris.
Left out the word ‘work’ sorry Doris
xo
Claudia,
Those of us who have been where you are now will always understand. Take as much time as you need, we will be here to support you.
And as for the idiots who think Scoutie was “just a dog”……………SCREW EM !!!
Vanessa
Thank you, Vanessa.
Bless you and Don both. Take your time in daily posting. We will all be right here waiting.
Thank you, Sharon.
Claudia, I am still hurting along with you. I don’t like the word ‘pet’ right now because Charlie like Scout was so much more then that. It feels like I’m trivializing their lives. My grief is raw. Losing my brother right before Christmas and then Charlie well Its just going to take a long time to ‘get over it’. I am grieving with you over Scout and sending much love and hugs to you and Don. I’m glad work is helping, seeing my grands has helped me. I can only imagine how you feel losing both parents and your Scout in a short amount of time. It’s too much, just too much. Know I am here for you always.
Linda
I agree. No ‘pet;’ it sounds trivial. I know you are also suffering from too much loss, my friend. I am here for you, as well. We will support each other as we try to move forward. xo
Claudia,
I am not a fellow blogger, but a long time reader and commented for the first time the other day. I would never say I know how you feel because your love and your loss is yours, but I do have a little dog I feel the exact same way about. She has had a genetic eye disease for the last 4 years that requires extensive and expensive treatment. My comings and goings revolve around her. She is still very young for her breed and still a happy and otherwise healthy little dog. Even so, at one point I had someone whose husband was sick and dying ask me why I don’t “just put her down.” If I would have asked her the same re her husband, she would have been horrified, but she thought nothing of asking me. I share this with you not to make this about me, but to simply say I understand the depth of your love and the depth of your grief. I know nothing anyone says can make you feel better or take away your loss, but I hope you and Don find comfort in the caring that surrounds you even from total strangers such as myself.
It astounds me how unfeeling people can be. I’m so sorry someone said that to you. When Riley was very ill, and when Don and I were always assessing his health, I had a reader who left a very long comment basically saying that I was being selfish and should put Riley down. On and on it went, berating me and my husband. I immediately deleted it and wrote that person, saying that she had crossed a line that she had no business crossing and that any decisions as to Riley’s life were ours and only ours. My mother was in a nursing home at the time and I countered with the same question you did “Since my mother has no control of her bowels, should I put her down, too?”
She, of course, didn’t get it and wrote me a second time berating me even more. I did not respond. Just hit delete.
All of this is to say that there will always be people who are insensitive, who do not understand the love we have for our babies, and who are most definitely missing the deep and profound love from and to a companion that is a beautiful gift.
Claudia, I feel your pain and I understand it completely. There is a part of your grief that you need to hold on to right now because it’s what you think you have left of your girl. I respect your right to feel that pain. So I’ll tell you a story about me and my grief, just for the sake of shifting focus from your own.
When my son was ten years old, he wanted a dog for his birthday. I wasn’t much of a dog person back then and I knew that when his childish whim of wanting a dog waned I would have to be responsible for said dog. So, I chose the dog. One I thought I could learn to love.
Oh, that dog! He stole my heart before we ever got him home. My son loved him, too, but as a boy will, he grew up, got busy, left home, and left the dog. No problem. It’s what kids do. The dog and I were inseparable. I took him to work whenever I could, drew his funny face in a lot of the advertising I was doing back then, and always had a funny “Wagner” story to tell. When the dog was nearly seventeen and had lived our life with us, through thick and thin, moving several times and sailing around the world on a little sailboat, we finally got back to dry land and contemplated a “normal life”, when tragedy struck.
My son, then a young adult died unexpectedly and I thought I would die, too. The grief was unbearable. Many days I felt I was in a dream, going about my life completely without letting in any feeling except the grief…except when I could hold the dog tightly and sob…and sob. He knew my pain and I knew he understood. Six months on, still clinging to my best friend, whose aging heart was as broken as mine, he died in my arms.
The pain that will never go away became even more unbearable and I was flattened by it. No dog could ever replace my Wagner, just as surely as no child could ever replace my son. But within a few weeks we had another puppy—not a replacement, but someone else who needed to be loved and taken care of. He would never take Wagner’s place, but he would take me back to better memories of when Waggy was a puppy. In my grief I had lost track of the way a puppy acts and learns and needs you. There is room for much love in the human heart. It is never full, even though it may feel that way right now.
Before long (after about five minutes) I was completely captivated by this new little innocent furry miracle. He could never make me forget Waggy, but he could help me to remember him…as he was, as he had been. And somehow my grief was buried by an avalanche of joyful reality and daily gratitude of a rescued pup.
May you find your joyful reality soon, Claudia.
Oh, Shanna, I am so sorry for your profound losses. Words are inadequate, but know that I understand, having lost a brother at a relatively young age and of course, having lost beloved dogs. Thank you for sharing your story.
It will be a while before we are ready for another. We want to travel a bit and there simply isn’t room in my heart for another dog at the moment. But there will be, in time.
So sorry about your poor little girl. So much loss. My heart breaks for you.
Thank you, Ann.
Grief has no schedule!
You’re right. Thank you.
I worry and think of you and Don many times each day…it’s very understandable that you are not feeling the need to post daily right now. I will be relieved when you and Don can be together again — I know it’s hard for him to live the “daily routine” alone right now when there is nothing routine about it, and I’m sure you are feeling pulled in many directions while you try to concentrate on your work. I am so sorry about your precious girl…hoping the happy memories will someday ease the pain, tho I know she will always, always be missed…
Thank you, Jacqui.
I am so sorry for the losses you are living through. I do understand in some ways — I’ve lost my mother, two grandsons, and pets who truly are children and family members — I grieve them all still though it has been years. Please do not allow anyone to tell you how long to grieve and then “to get over it” — with great love comes great pain at the loss. I am thinking of both you and Don and hope that each day offers some bit of light and joy for you soon.
Thank you, Barbara
Oh Scout….I have a memory of her even though I never met her…It was on one of your work trips was it last year…hmmm time flies but I remember you posting how she loved going with you that time and how she had magical spurts in the park and would “romp” still even at her advanced age. When I see you writing about her even now I smile at that picture you painted for us of her “romping” in the park. May the magic continue in her memory.
It was here in Hartford, Cindy. I’m reminded of it every time I enter the apartment building and every time I look at the park across the street where I walked her. Bittersweet.
Scout captured my heart from the very first post I read. I’ll be right here waiting for a post from you, and understanding you are taking care of yourself when you decide to skip the blog. Your readers really do care about you.
I know they do and it means the world to me. Thank you, Kaye.
Have been told those who love harder, grieve harder and I have
experienced it to know that those words are true. Love to you.
Thank you, Phyllis.
It seems that having lived such a conscious connection with Scout makes way for the immensity of the loss. That awareness of the love you shared may allow for such depths of grief but also appears as the beauty ,power and Love in you Claudia and I pray you may feel it carrying you through this.
Thank you so much for those beautiful words, Grace.
Two word message, we understand. ❤️❤️❤️
Thank you, Lea.
Our grief is so personal. We each face it and get through it in our own way. No one can tell you what is right and what is wrong for you. Somehow we find our way. And a lot of times we look back and shake our heads and wonder how in the world we ever did it.
Each step is terribly hard and there is no way to rush any of it. Take all the time that is necessary for you and Don. As you said, most of your readers know that lonesome path and all of us will be here.
Thank you, Chris.
My Kitty Sienna died unexpectedly in September. I still see her presence. I will always see my feline girl, as well as my other two feline girls, scampering around the house or sitting quietly observing me. The love I have for my cats is so deep, and unquestionable. The only selfish thought is that I wanted them to be with me forever. I know you feel the same way about Scout. You’ll never have a doggie like her again, but one day, your life will be brightened by another animal willing to teach you as you are willing to love him or her. Take your time in grief. As many of your loyal commenters expressed, there are no rules. Huge hugs and loving thoughts being sent to you, Claudia, and for Don too.
I do feel the same way. She should live forever. Thank you, Wendy.
Most dog owners completely understand. I do hear from non dog owners all the time…..she is only a dog not your child. Our children are grown and our dogs are our children. They have distinct personalities, habits, likes/dislikes, and needs. They are a HUGE part of our lives and we love them. Bless you and Don. I’m truly sad for your loss. Patty Mc
Thank you, Patty.
Being a only child, I totally know the feeling of being orphaned by the loss of both parents. I miss my parents more then I can every express. I also understand depth of your loss of Scout! As I sit writing this, my special pup by my side, I understand the depth of your loss and grief. I want you to know that we are here for you and please let us help you through your grief by having the freedom of being able to express to us what you are feeling. I know the feeling of loss so deep that you think the earth should stop turning and the struggle just to breathe because the hurt is too much! We are here for you Claudia!
I’m having trouble breathing, for sure, Michle. Thank you.
It breaks my heart to read the news about beautiful lady Scout, I’m so sorry for your loss. I think the hurting does never really disappear, but with time, one just learns to live with it. I believe she was very lucky having a family like yours and to be taken care of with all the love you have given her. I will have known her with her sweet smiles from the pictures you kindly shared with us. Sending you and Don hugs from Netherlands…
Thank you so much, Susi.
You know Claudia, grief is very individual and anyone who gives you a value judgement does not, as far as I am concerned,have empathy or sympathy for the hurting you are feeling. When my dad died I was really thinking I was getting over the intense grief and then about a year later I had to go into the store and buy a card close to Father’s Day. As I passed those cards I started crying—emotion totally overcame me when I least expected it. I had to leave the store. When our beloved sheltie had to be euthanized after 15 years of giving us love, pleasure, and companionship, we felt like we list a part of our heart. So I know how you feel.
I do not have a blog but I do enjoy reading both your blog and your sister’s blog. You both have experienced a very difficult year .
We have. So much loss. Thank goodness we have each other, Meredith and I. She’s an enormous source of support. Thank you for your kind words, Barbara.
These things can’t be rushed. And it’s very, very difficult.
S
xo
Thank you, Sue.
Take your time in the knowledge that you are not alone.
Thank you, Margaret.
Thinking of you – come back here when you’re ready – meanwhile stay busy there doing what you really love.
With love – every day.
Mary –
Thank you, Mary.
Claudia, you have suffered life’s biggest losses in such a short space of time; I am sure that you are shaken to your core. Love is love whether it is love of a dog or a human. take good care of each other.
Thank you, Carolyn Marie.
You take as long as you need, do what you need to do. We are your friends and understand and will be waiting for your return and whatever you want and need to talk about.
Thank you, my friend.
I was relieved to see your post today Claudia, and to know that you are keeping on as best you can right now. You know, I lost my Mom and Dad within 3 days of each other when I was 29 years old. I have never, ever, forgotten the horrendous grief and yes, anger, I felt at the time. If I’m honest I would tell you that after 26 years it still hits me like the proverbial punch to the gut at times. We had to have our beloved dog euthanized the very next year. The devastation was awful and no one understood how I had kept going through my parents death, but fell apart when “just the dog” died. It was the last straw. I think that I understand as well as anyone could, the depth of your grief. Scout was your baby. Your girl. You have had much grief in the past few years, but you have a lot of people who care very much for you and Don. We’ll be here when you’re ready to post regularly again. Please know that I keep you in my prayers daily.
Blessings,
Betsy
I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must have been to lose your parents within days of each other – or to lose your beloved dog shortly after. I do understand, however. It’s terrible, the grief. Terrible. Thank you so much, Betsy.
Claudia and Don,
My heart goes out to you. I lost my baby Petey five years ago and my husband and I decided to wait a while before getting another dog. You know, we would travel, blah, blah, blah. I cried everyday for six weeks. At home, work, in the car, you name it. I finally told him I couldn’t go on that way, I was makingbmyself sick. We wanted a Frenchie, so I started looking. That’s when I found Ralphie. Precious four month old French bulldog. But we didn’t stop there. We felt like he needed a playmate, so we adopted a Golden Retriever.
I know you need time to heal because of the time you had Scout, but I tell you my friend, the pain does not go away nor does the void in your home.
Don’t wait too long.
You friend in Texas
Thank you, Sharon. I have to wait until we do what we need to do. One or the other of us has been housebound for more years than we can count. We need a break. When the time is right, we will know. Thank you.
There ae no words to take away the pain, no time limits on grief. Take all the time you need ad your readers will be here to support you no matter how little or much you post.
Thinking of and saying a prayer for both of you as you work your way through this enormous loss.
Thank you, Sue.
If you and Don ever want to get away, our door is open to you. Xxoo
Thank you, Patricia.
Just a dog/cat…is one of the cruelest things that can be said at a time like this….take your time…we will be here for you…Hugs..
Thank you, Nancy.
I said you both are made of tough stuff you and Don, and I mean it. I have no idea how you’re doing such complicated work…except that you have to; you’re a responsible adult and you’ve made a commitment. Then there’s Don, most likely home a lot, feeling Scout’s (and your) absence every time he goes into another room or turns a corner. I can only hope that once you and Don are in the same space again, you can build even the slightest roof over your grief, huddle together under that shelter of each other, somehow get through it, with love and a lot of holding, i.e. in the flesh and not just by media/phone.
It’s so unbelievably hot where I am; we are in a heatwave in southern California for days and days…but then I read about very severe weather, blizzards (I’ve never been in a blizzard), like below zero, in NYC and I’m sure that means your cottage, Don and you in Hartford will be slammed with snow. One thought came across me, “Well, this would have been difficult for Scout…the going outside, to do her business…” I know it (everything) was getting harder and harder for her, as you’d described.
I don’t know why grief has to be compounded by multiple deaths. It happens. I lost my childhood best friend and my only sibling when both were in their 30s, along with my great-uncle…all in the space of 10 months (the boys within two months of each other). Three people, 10 months. I was far away…thousands and thousands of miles…and, the way it turned out because of distance and everything else, I really had no one with whom to share my deeply personal grief and all the emotions that go with it, including a first-time glimpse of perhaps my own mortality. The vulnerability was palpable. My husband was less sensitive in those days and seemed to say all the wrong things. My parents were comatose (emotionally) and refused to talk of their adult child’s death. This was new; we’d always been a family who could hammer things out. I had a new job in a new home in a new city, which was a metropolis…and I was, lost. I cried…but not a lot. Not enough. I got angry. Really angry. I knew nothing would ever be the same again. I couldn’t believe I was now an ‘only child’ and I felt the world around me was cold, unfeeling, clueless, privileged (although pity was never a big part of it). The only thing I really did, except thinking about it ALL the time and feeling guilty if I didn’t, was journal. So, I’m hoping maybe writing (this blog) can help you as it did me. I was alone a lot back then. I knew no one in this very-large corporation where I worked and my husband was gone on work assignments constantly. It was one of the worst episodes of my life. All I can tell you is that I got through it. Going to work every day was important. Structure is vital. Get up, take a shower, go to work or go to the store; take a walk. Breathe. Go outside. Keep your hands busy. For as grief-stricken and distracted you must feel, come up with something to look forward to and keep your focus on it. I just read something yesterday that said the thing you need to give time, is time.
I wish we all lived near you and could come visit, bring a cupcake, give a hug, lend our ear.
Thank you, Vicki. We’re not getting snow – maybe a little tomorrow night – what we are getting and what I have to walk several blocks in tonight is 20 -30 degrees below zero windchills this afternoon, tonight and tomorrow. It’s unbearable out there and all of us have to walk to and from the theater twice today. We said (Don and I) that we were grateful that we had very little snow or ice in December and January – for Scout’s sake. It would have been horrible for her.
I also lost my brother when he was 44 years old, and have an estranged sister who wants nothing to do with her family, for reasons that will always be unknown to me but are most certainly due to mental illness of some sort. So, it’s just Meredith and me. Loss has been part of our adult lives and it just seems to be getting worse. Thanks, Vicki.
I can’t fathom such weather. How does your face not freeze? You’ve gotta make very sure you don’t get sick, Claudia. You’re over-stressed, defenses down and working hard, then out in that cold. Drink hot drinks; try to get your sleep; so important that you also try to eat nutritiously although I know you’re a mindful eater as a vegetarian. Push a lot of fluid; stay hydrated. I’m not a mom per se and I’m no nurse; just your worried cyber friend. I’m so, so sorry you’re having to go through this terribly-hard time. Thank God you have “Mere” because, yes, you and Don, like me and my husband, are at ‘that age’ where people (and pets) seem to be leaving us far too often and ‘way too soon (even in the headline news and entertainment pages). I’m so grateful that in my youth, I didn’t suffer the losses I have as an adult. Of course, as kids, I assume we process it differently … our emotions are somewhat undeveloped(?) … but I know it was incredibly difficult (and affected him lifelong, really) for my father-in-law (also an ‘only child’) to lose his mother when he was only age 5 (and he unfortunately had an emotionally-distant father who clearly also was coping with his own grief; we’re talking 90 years ago). My parents must have explained death very well to me because I know when I lost my grandmother at age 8, I somehow didn’t fall apart. Bless them for that.
I was just at the post office to pick up my mail and I got a notice that I never paid the rent on my offsite storage unit for Feb 1. My husband had that surgery-gone-awry and I remember I’d planned to pay bills once we got home from what was supposed to be the one-day surgery. Then, all hell broke loose and we rushed by ambulance back to the hospital and, well, other stuff just flew out of my mind and stayed flown. I could have jeopardized my storage contents; I am NEVER late on any kind of rent. We’re just not ourselves when the mind is filled with a stressful event. I am so glad you’re an otherwise very-together person or else I would have further worried that you had to drive back up to Hartford, by yourself, so soon after Scout’s passing. It’s just such a hard, hard time…but do you see how strong you are? I know you just want to cuddle your girl, though. We can rationalize all this stuff but it comes down to wanting your dog, right here, right now, at your feet and as it was.
Your readers here are saying our many prayers for you and Don. It’s a strengthening thing.
Thank you, Vicki. The coldest weather I’ve ever seen last night. Unbearable.
I haven’t had a dog in many years because it is so painful when they leave us. My last dog was everything to me. When I finally had to put her down I stayed with her until she passed just as you and Don did. Then I went away for a week to visit out of state family because I simply could not go home to an empty apartment. When I did go home I would “see” her though of course she wasn’t there and I still have a recurring dream that I forgot to feed her. The unconditional love and companionship a dog provides cannot ever be forgotten but thankfully the raw pain does subside with time. Take care of yourselves. Hugs.
I totally understand not being able to go home. Don is home where we all lived together and I know it’s hard for him. Thank you, Karen.
Those who have gone through this understand. It is always so hard. Most of us have gone through this so many times. It never gets easier.
I know what you mean about not feeling like scrolling. I lost my mom a month ago and am having trouble with that too. I seem to have no patience to sit here and scroll through them.
Don’t let anyone tell you what to feel as Scout was a big part of your life. As you said a family member. I have always felt that way myself. I bet Scout is looking down and is thinking about the great life you and Don gave her.
I’m so sorry about the loss of your mother, Teresa. I’m sending you a big hug.
I’m so very sorry for your loss. I too know grief as I lost my beloved dog 8 years ago and am still sad when I think of her. I also lost my father only 2 months ago. My thoughts are with you.
Melanie, I’m so sorry about the loss of your father. I understand. My sympathies and a big hug.
You talk when you can, you post when you can, you cry all you need. We are here (especially me) whenever you need us.
Love you,
Mere
Cried again this morning when I heard the song Don wrote about Scout.
We understand..Nidia
Thank you, Nidia.
Grief is hard. It is a process. It is painful. It is where you are right now. I would rather read your blog written in real time. It is how and what you are doing at the moment. Your reality is a very important part and has everything to do with why I read it every day.
Take care of you and Don.
Hugs.
Thank you for those kind words, Kelly.
I realized many years ago after losing a beloved family member, my cat of 20 years, that no one would really understand my grief. It was just too personal. No one knew her, shared life with her or loved her like I did. I still feel that way after many years and many losses of cats and recently our dog. It’s just such a personal loss. Thinking of you, Claudia. Deb
Thank you, Deb.
Claudia, I’ve hit the “wall of grief” myself and know where you are. The last straw came when my little cat, into whose fur I cried the whole time my dad lived out his last year, finally died. I couldn’t accept that my little boy wouldn’t get well, but he couldn’t. I never loved anyone as much as I loved that cat. I can’t type these words without tears. We took a 9-month break and I just couldn’t stand not having a little pet to cuddle, so we rescued two new cats that I adore. Nothing takes the place or fills the void, but giving love to others who really need it goes a long way towards healing. You’ll get there too. I so wish Don was there with you, where you can shelter each other from the cold inside and outside. Take good care, and do take your time. The right thing to do will show itself in good time.
I wish Don was here, too. But he has to man the house because this weather could freeze the pipes. Hopefully, he’ll be able to come for a day or two next week.
gentle hugs~
Thank you, Jeannine.
Claudia and Don,
I haven’t been able to send you my condolences because I feel your pain and am totally heartbroken. I’ve cried many tears for you both and Scout. As a lover of all animals I know all too well how devastating it is to lose one we love so very much. All I can say is think of all the good times you had with her. Let those memories warm your soul and soothe your broken heart. You’ll be with her again.
My 9 year old Newf, Bear has Canine Cognitive Disorder and watching him decline these past couple of months is so hard. He attacked both of our other dogs on Christmas Day and now my house is a maze with gates, keeping him away from the other animals. CCD has changed his sweet personality into one we can’t trust. Every day I wonder how much longer we can keep him with us….so I know your heartache. “Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened ~ Anatole France” Your souls were awakened and that’s another beautiful thing Scout gave to you. Sending prayers and healing thoughts to you both.
I’m so sorry about your dear Bear, Cheryl. How stressful that must be for everyone. Thank you for your kind words and know that I’m praying for Bear.
I understand.
Thank you, Sandra.
Dear Claudia, please take all the time you need to grieve for all of your losses. It has been two years since I lost my husband and everyday is still a struggle for me. I lost Bill, my home and my two beloved cats all within a two week period. I had to take my “boy’s” to a no kill shelter. I miss them all so very much. Grief is an on going process, we just learn how to live with it and it sucks. I have had people say some pretty crappy things to me about my losses. Ignore them. They obviously have not had to go through this. My heart goes out to you and Don. xo
I know that you’ve been through so much, April. Thank you for your kind words.
Just breathe………..then another breath…….then another…..just through each moment as it comes xxx
Thank you, Janine.
Through the years, you’ve shown us the way you’ve loved Scout and the particulars of her personality. Still, I’m certain we don’t begin to know her as you did, any more than we know a favorite actor we’ve seen interviewed many times. I just wanted to say that I’ve stopped by to read or witness whatever you need to say right now about your pain. I wish it hadn’t been visited upon you right now.
Thank you, Linda.
You will never hear me being impatient with you, or saying it’s “just a dog”. My grief over my Sooner is still right there at the top of my emotions all the time, as is my grief for my husband. I pray that time will, at least, allow you to put that grief in a place where you can make it through the day without sobbing constantly. Hugs, dear Claudia. I miss Scout too.
Thank you, Debra.
I understand your emotions and your wanderings; I did the same thing after my son died 2 1/2 years ago. And it still hurts and it still brings tears. I have wonderful memories as you do but they don’t take the place of the loved one no longer with us. Grief is personal … nothing more personal in my mind. And it takes whatever time it takes. I will never be the same — not saying that I will not heal, but I am changed in ways that I cannot express. It’s deep in my heart and soul. I’m sure you will come to feel the same. My prayers are with you both.
Thank you Ann. I’m so sorry about the loss of your son.
You don’t ever need to, nor should you, ever apologise for feeling like this or for sharing these feelings. I knew someone very wise once who said that you have to feel the feelings, and you do. You know from the other losses that you have suffered with your other doggies and your parents that you will work through it, but it takes time and you do not need to say sorry for that. Blog as and when you feel or not and leave it at that! Sorry, I am bossy I realise, it is all said with a lot of love though I hope you know. Losing a parent is in a way natural, it is what we imagine will one day happen and although it is truly terrible, we expect it. To lose a child though is not what we expect, and although because your children have been dogs you would have expected that, it is to you like losing a child that you wouldn’t expect to, so again your feelings are so totally understandable. If I was there I would give you a great big hug, but I am sending you some now across the airwaves and lots of good thoughts too. Scout will always be in your heart and you in hers. Hugs!!!!!! xx
Thanks so much, Amy.
Hi Claudia, Grief IS what it is. There’s no time limit on it either. Take one day at a time that is all that you Can do.
Thank you, Elizabeth.
Grief is so personal and different for everyone. Take your time. Those of us who have been there understand. The only downside of having furbabies is the shortness of their lives compared to ours. Losing them hurts so very deeply. Post when you feel like it. I hope you can feel the loving thoughts sent your way.
I can. Thank you, Dottie.
Thinking of you and Mr Don today.
You and yours have touched so many lives.
Hoping the joy and memories you shared helps some in these dark times.
Thank you so much, Nee.
I wrote earlier about my Casey (KK) and how I ,et her go saying she was going so another could be rescued. I hope I wasn’t offensive as I know we all grief in our own way. A new rescue was my way to grief and know we all do so in our own way. I feel your loss enormously since I have done so with 3 dogs and 4 cats. They are our family and the loss is as deep as any child. May God give your family comfort. P.S. I enjoy your post. But understand taking time off. Take all the time you need. We understand.
Thank you, Sandy.
Work does help I know and you have work you love which is a blessing. Wish the Hartford weather was treating you better though. Am I remembering a former post correctly and was Scout in Hartford with you a year or so ago running around the park? My memory is horrible at times but I do remember smiling at that picture of a happy girl I conjured up from your description wherever it took place. :)
Yes, she was with me last year, which makes this time in Hartford bittersweet as it’s full of memories.
Take all the time you eed, Claudua. Grief is a process , and the most irritating thing in the world is for someone to expect you to adhere to some manufactured timetable of their making. They are your feelings, yoor grief, not theirs. Don’t short circuit it.
Today, my neighbhor’s little chihuahua escaped when my neighbor’s sister went to pick her up at the airport. I spent the better part of the afternoon into the night trying to help find This little five or six pound pup. He was gone for five hours. First he would show up and then disappear again . Then he finally disaaeared until way after dark. It was very scary because we saw a bald eagle and a hawk earler right next door! When I finally saw the little guy running down the street, I ran straight to his mother and got her to come call him because he simply refused to come to any of us. When he finally was placed by her daughter into his mother’s arms, that baby dog whimpered/squealed with delight. No one can tell me that dogs don’t feel things deeply or that God doesn’t have a very special place for them in Heaven. It simply would not be complete without them.
You take all the time you need. Your loss of Scout is very real and deeply painful. I teared up over a border collie who was in church with a lady in a wheelchair this morning because the border collie reminded me of Scout. I can’t imagine how you feel right now because I feel that way and only know Scout from the blog!
Thinking of you…
Sheila
Thank you, Sheila.
Thought of you when I first woke this morning, and am glad to read your post, first that you will take a little break to recover, and that you posted that lovely photo of such beauty. That loveliness sheds light, and comments on the beauty that you are always able to portray in your writings. Healing will come, in its own time, just as the earlier loss of your parents is working its way through this sad, sad loss of your beautiful girl.
May you and Don continue to find deep comfort in each other and the beauty you have created in your lives. I am so sorry……..
Thank you, Marcia.
Yeah, “just a dog” … they sit next to us in our comfy chair, they sleep on our bed at night, they excitedly greet us when we come home, they look at us with such love and adoration, and hide behind the couch when we say, “you want a bath”? They are as much a part of our families as can be. Because of my living situations the past dozen years, or so, I’ve not been able to have a dog, and I miss that. I had my little Emma for almost 17 years … the memory of holding her for that last time is still fresh in my mind. I completely understand Claudia … you’ve had tremendous losses these past couple of years. You take the time you need. I’ve been praying for you and Don.
Thank you, Debbie.
Dearest Claudia, there is no need to explain your sense of loss. Anyone that has ever loved another creature understands your grief. It hits us when we are least expecting it as well as when we know it will knock us to our knees. Even though the pain is heartbreaking I have to say it is well worth it. I do not regret one moment of the time I have had with the various creatures that have shared their lives with me even though that time is always much too short. They make our lives so very rich.
They do indeed. Thanks, Teresa.