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deeply sad with grief
- Thread starter biscandmatt1
- Start date
parsnipbun
Wise Old Thumper
exactly this - I have not been around much and so do not know what happened at the end - but i know I have had exactly this emotional package and in the end the good memories WILL win out.
rachylou
Warren Veteran
I am so sorry I don't know what happened to Bisc,I am sorry you lost your boy.
This thread has bought tears to my eyes as 3 weeks ago we came close to loosing Jims, he is my soul mate, I love him with all my heart and i honestly will never be ready to let him go and sure as hell will never get used to him not being with me, I need him in my life forever so I can imagine the intense sadness you must be feeling.
This thread has bought tears to my eyes as 3 weeks ago we came close to loosing Jims, he is my soul mate, I love him with all my heart and i honestly will never be ready to let him go and sure as hell will never get used to him not being with me, I need him in my life forever so I can imagine the intense sadness you must be feeling.
MimzMum
Wise Old Thumper
I'm going to get very long in the tooth and philosophical here so apologies in advance if I bore everyone to tears or sound like I've lost the plot. :lol:
I'm also acquainted with the phrase "time heals." And like Jane, I've found in my experience that I need to discard that notion...at least in the broad sense of the definition of the word, "healing."
When we suffer a cut or bruise that isn't too deep...yes, with a little attention and care to the wound, we can heal. And we're usually told from a young age that it's "all better now, stop crying." And we have an ice cream, if you have an indulgent (and probably harried) parent.
Or when we have a cold or flu, we can do what's necessary to lessen it and eventually it goes away. This is all what I would classify as "healing."
When we suffer a loss, I do not believe that we heal so much as, we scar.
Physically, I have some very deep scars. I've had major surgery and this surgery took something away from me. Not just from my body but emotionally and mentally. And in all three arenas, I now sport scars. Some are a sign that I am free from disease, yes that is in a sense healing, but some also make me realize I am no longer whole, I am not who I was. And no one can say that it's about time I stop missing who I was. Well they can, but it's not likely to happen. I can occasionally reduce the feeling of being 'broken' or 'incomplete' but I can never change everything back to the way it was and be the 'old me' again.
Some may disagree with what I am about to say, but, my above statement is not necessarily a bad thing, in my opinion. We live in a world where people see someone sad and think they must cheer them up because sad isn't normal. And I call
on that.
Even we can be hard on ourselves and think we need to buck up. But I say, be kind to yourself. Don't expect what you may not be able to deliver at this point in time, if ever. Just make a special place for it. It is a part of you, sometimes it needs to be nurtured rather than rebuked.
I haven't tributed Tooey. I am not likely to. For me I think a certain amount of time has passed that it doesn't help to do such a thing anymore, and that's where I am right now. Plus, whenever I have to think of her it brings it all back and especially her last day, which was obviously the inevitable conclusion to a life that was punctuated in the end by long illness. But I think of her a lot. Can't help it. I loved her. Still do and always will. And every other animal friend I've had to bid farewell to under acceptable or difficult circumstances. I relive each of their passings quite often, as well as their lives with us. Each one has their own unique effect on my daily mood depending on how we lived our lives together, and how we said goodbye.
Sadly, sometimes even when we do 'the right thing' by a beloved pet or companion, it can still not be completely right. I won't elaborate, I'll just say that, yes, we chose to end her suffering. Yes, it was likely a correct decision as she was going downhill and overall, she was never going to get better. It was still awful to agree to and witness and anyone who says they have no trouble with this experience is (hopefully) lying. I wouldn't blame anyone who wanted to take that 'last chance saloon' approach (borrowing one of Jane's phrases here) for the pet who may or may not already be beyond the point of no return, or if you wanted strict guidelines for the animal's comfort adhered to, or a chance to have that last cuddle or look in their eyes, sometimes to apologise...mostly to say "I love you" one more time, and let the echo of those three little words cross the rainbow with them, because for now, we cannot.
I don't want to upset anyone reading this, or to paint all vets with the same brush... but Tooey's passing was not as peaceful as it could have been and I feel that was my fault because I was right there and should've asked the vet for certain procedures that were not in place that day, but I just assumed what I had seen done before would be done again...it wasn't. The same aim was established but if I could go back and change how it happened, I would. But I can't.
I am scarred.
My poor son, who had never attended a euthanasia appointment, much less one for his best friend in the world, is scarred.
I like to think that Tooey did "come back" and let us know she was alright. I heard footfalls in the house that could only have been hers. I caught glimpses of a black cat out of the corner of my eye. Not everyone experiences things such as this and some may say I'm wishful thinking. Does it give me a bit of comfort? Maybe. But it doesn't erase the scars.
And that's okay. Because without some scars in our lives, I think we wouldn't be the people we are. In some cases scars should be cherished, because they attest to the depth to which we loved an individual. They remind us of who they were to us. On my right hand I have some deep tooth marks still and scratches from when Griff bit me over three months ago thinking I was the other cat in the house come for a fight. He didn't realize it was me till it was too late. It was a terrible experience for us both, but oddly, on the same arm I have a bite mark from Tooey from about 15 years previous as well; our dog was sneaking up on her and I'd picked her up to get her out of the way and bam! she let me know she didn't appreciate it. It's faint, but I can still see it. And when the time comes that I have to say goodbye to Griff, I will have these visible reminders of him as well...an oddly enough, I cherish them. The scars you can't see? Those are yet to be made...the day we part will leave the deepest ones.
In his case, I've written a poem which I will publish in his RB thread, as I'm fairly sure I will need to make one to process his passing. Strange to have already produced his 'eulogy?' Yeah, I think so too, but we don't always have control over when our deepest feelings hit us or how...and rather than push it back, I wrote the words down as they came. I will agree with others here that writing is a marvelous way to get the feelings somewhere other than our heads. It doesn't have to be Hemingway...it just has to be you, and how you felt, and still feel, about the one you held dear.
Deep grief is part of the human condition. Embrace it and wade through it if that is what you need to do. Revisit it. A word of caution not to let your grief become it's own illness, by all means if you believe it is something that you need to let go of and are having difficulty, then seek whatever help you need to do so...but if even your grief brings you a strange form of comfort...if it helps you remember the one you loved so dearly...then don't wisht it away. Speak to it. Engage it. Dance with it. And maybe by the time you have finished your conversation with your grief, even if it is one of many, you may feel it has lessened somewhat with familiarity.
There's an old song by Todd Rundgren called "Time Heals." I love the line in it that says, "If you're crying, then everyone can see you crying...and they all sympathize. But it just doesn't matter, though they may be trying, they can't feel the hurt inside." Too true. But you know what is and isn't hurting...and when you hurt, you want to make it better. We just all have different ways of achieving that.
Another one from Todd: "I'm only human, mere flesh and blood. I'm afraid to go on without someone to hold me up."
Okay...went far afield and waxed long there...but in fewer words what I'm trying to say is; you miss Bisc, you still love him, you always will, and you wish he were still here. And that's okay. (((((((((((((((Huge hugs)))))))))))))) xxxxx
I'm also acquainted with the phrase "time heals." And like Jane, I've found in my experience that I need to discard that notion...at least in the broad sense of the definition of the word, "healing."
When we suffer a cut or bruise that isn't too deep...yes, with a little attention and care to the wound, we can heal. And we're usually told from a young age that it's "all better now, stop crying." And we have an ice cream, if you have an indulgent (and probably harried) parent.
Or when we have a cold or flu, we can do what's necessary to lessen it and eventually it goes away. This is all what I would classify as "healing."
When we suffer a loss, I do not believe that we heal so much as, we scar.
Physically, I have some very deep scars. I've had major surgery and this surgery took something away from me. Not just from my body but emotionally and mentally. And in all three arenas, I now sport scars. Some are a sign that I am free from disease, yes that is in a sense healing, but some also make me realize I am no longer whole, I am not who I was. And no one can say that it's about time I stop missing who I was. Well they can, but it's not likely to happen. I can occasionally reduce the feeling of being 'broken' or 'incomplete' but I can never change everything back to the way it was and be the 'old me' again.
Some may disagree with what I am about to say, but, my above statement is not necessarily a bad thing, in my opinion. We live in a world where people see someone sad and think they must cheer them up because sad isn't normal. And I call
on that.Even we can be hard on ourselves and think we need to buck up. But I say, be kind to yourself. Don't expect what you may not be able to deliver at this point in time, if ever. Just make a special place for it. It is a part of you, sometimes it needs to be nurtured rather than rebuked.
I haven't tributed Tooey. I am not likely to. For me I think a certain amount of time has passed that it doesn't help to do such a thing anymore, and that's where I am right now. Plus, whenever I have to think of her it brings it all back and especially her last day, which was obviously the inevitable conclusion to a life that was punctuated in the end by long illness. But I think of her a lot. Can't help it. I loved her. Still do and always will. And every other animal friend I've had to bid farewell to under acceptable or difficult circumstances. I relive each of their passings quite often, as well as their lives with us. Each one has their own unique effect on my daily mood depending on how we lived our lives together, and how we said goodbye.
Sadly, sometimes even when we do 'the right thing' by a beloved pet or companion, it can still not be completely right. I won't elaborate, I'll just say that, yes, we chose to end her suffering. Yes, it was likely a correct decision as she was going downhill and overall, she was never going to get better. It was still awful to agree to and witness and anyone who says they have no trouble with this experience is (hopefully) lying. I wouldn't blame anyone who wanted to take that 'last chance saloon' approach (borrowing one of Jane's phrases here) for the pet who may or may not already be beyond the point of no return, or if you wanted strict guidelines for the animal's comfort adhered to, or a chance to have that last cuddle or look in their eyes, sometimes to apologise...mostly to say "I love you" one more time, and let the echo of those three little words cross the rainbow with them, because for now, we cannot.
I don't want to upset anyone reading this, or to paint all vets with the same brush... but Tooey's passing was not as peaceful as it could have been and I feel that was my fault because I was right there and should've asked the vet for certain procedures that were not in place that day, but I just assumed what I had seen done before would be done again...it wasn't. The same aim was established but if I could go back and change how it happened, I would. But I can't.
I am scarred.
My poor son, who had never attended a euthanasia appointment, much less one for his best friend in the world, is scarred.
I like to think that Tooey did "come back" and let us know she was alright. I heard footfalls in the house that could only have been hers. I caught glimpses of a black cat out of the corner of my eye. Not everyone experiences things such as this and some may say I'm wishful thinking. Does it give me a bit of comfort? Maybe. But it doesn't erase the scars.
And that's okay. Because without some scars in our lives, I think we wouldn't be the people we are. In some cases scars should be cherished, because they attest to the depth to which we loved an individual. They remind us of who they were to us. On my right hand I have some deep tooth marks still and scratches from when Griff bit me over three months ago thinking I was the other cat in the house come for a fight. He didn't realize it was me till it was too late. It was a terrible experience for us both, but oddly, on the same arm I have a bite mark from Tooey from about 15 years previous as well; our dog was sneaking up on her and I'd picked her up to get her out of the way and bam! she let me know she didn't appreciate it. It's faint, but I can still see it. And when the time comes that I have to say goodbye to Griff, I will have these visible reminders of him as well...an oddly enough, I cherish them. The scars you can't see? Those are yet to be made...the day we part will leave the deepest ones.
In his case, I've written a poem which I will publish in his RB thread, as I'm fairly sure I will need to make one to process his passing. Strange to have already produced his 'eulogy?' Yeah, I think so too, but we don't always have control over when our deepest feelings hit us or how...and rather than push it back, I wrote the words down as they came. I will agree with others here that writing is a marvelous way to get the feelings somewhere other than our heads. It doesn't have to be Hemingway...it just has to be you, and how you felt, and still feel, about the one you held dear.
Deep grief is part of the human condition. Embrace it and wade through it if that is what you need to do. Revisit it. A word of caution not to let your grief become it's own illness, by all means if you believe it is something that you need to let go of and are having difficulty, then seek whatever help you need to do so...but if even your grief brings you a strange form of comfort...if it helps you remember the one you loved so dearly...then don't wisht it away. Speak to it. Engage it. Dance with it. And maybe by the time you have finished your conversation with your grief, even if it is one of many, you may feel it has lessened somewhat with familiarity.
There's an old song by Todd Rundgren called "Time Heals." I love the line in it that says, "If you're crying, then everyone can see you crying...and they all sympathize. But it just doesn't matter, though they may be trying, they can't feel the hurt inside." Too true. But you know what is and isn't hurting...and when you hurt, you want to make it better. We just all have different ways of achieving that.
Another one from Todd: "I'm only human, mere flesh and blood. I'm afraid to go on without someone to hold me up."
Okay...went far afield and waxed long there...but in fewer words what I'm trying to say is; you miss Bisc, you still love him, you always will, and you wish he were still here. And that's okay. (((((((((((((((Huge hugs)))))))))))))) xxxxx
biscandmatt1
Wise Old Thumper
Thank you so much everyone. I'm glad I decided to post.
I do feel like I'm broken yet at the same time been left with a strength that I haven't had before. It has put things into perspective. Bisc gave me an inner strength and he still does. I can never thank him enough for what he brought to my life. For showing me what unconditional love is, and for bringing me an inner peace and calm just from being able to lie beside him.
I feel so sad but I am also relieved for him in a way that he is free from his health problems and reunited with Matt.
It feels like a long time to wait to be with them again though x
I do feel like I'm broken yet at the same time been left with a strength that I haven't had before. It has put things into perspective. Bisc gave me an inner strength and he still does. I can never thank him enough for what he brought to my life. For showing me what unconditional love is, and for bringing me an inner peace and calm just from being able to lie beside him.
I feel so sad but I am also relieved for him in a way that he is free from his health problems and reunited with Matt.
It feels like a long time to wait to be with them again though x
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Mackers
Wise Old Thumper
For me, it's pure guilt over Meggie's death, and still some shock, because it was unexpected. I am ALWAYS with my dogs at the end, usually in our own home. But even if we can't be in our own home, I hold them so they have the comfort of knowing safety and love. Meggie was terminally ill, although I didn't know it at the time. Her last night on earth was spent hooked up to a drip at the emergency vets and not in her own home. The following morning, we did a 90 mile an hour dash to Davies Referral Vets in Bedfordshire. On arrival, a medical team met us in the carpark, took one look at her, placed her on a trolley and rushed off to the emergency room. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye and I never saw her alive again. She died later that day.
And that's what's crushed me. I didn't know she was terminally ill, I never had a chance to say goodbye, I wasn't with her and she died alone. I let her down when she needed me the most. I'll NEVER get over that. It will haunt me until my dying day
.Grief sucks.
I don't have anything like the vocabulary others have to express their feelings, but there's a truth you will know.
You were about the 1st person to open a new door to treating snuffles on here. Remember the "bunnies in the mist" photo? You very patiently & kindly taught me about snuffles so I've referred many RUers to you by pm for advice.
Above all,I had no idea that my next bun would have snuffles. The vet thought he wouldn't last out the year, it is purely because of you teaching me so well, that Benjie has got this far. We are both deeply indebted to you & I understand the personal cost to you as the person who1st opened this door.
I don't know what you blame yourself for, whether realistic or not, but would say that you had 2 snuffles bunnies, needing years & years of constant care & vigillance. It is wrong to blame yourself through the retrospectrosope when a decision was made with far less information available at the time. Even so, no one on this earth can be 100% right all the time, so please be merciful to yourself, as I'm sure you would be to others. I'm sure that Bisc holds nothing against you at all, rather loves you so much for all that you gave him. He would be so distressed watching you pull yourself apart.
Time? I think the searing pain diminishes. It's good to remember the good times, the funny times, - I call it my "treasure chest" which is always there to be opened. I still talk about Thumper, (probably some who didn't know us think I have 2 buns now!!)
There are also times to shed tears. It's a case of balance. I just say, please don't let the ending rob you of all those wonderful years you had together. Yes, there is still a Thumper shaped hole in my life, but it's eased by all the fond memmories.
It may not help your grief, but may I take this opportunity to express my deep indebtedness to you, for giving a no hope baby bunny 51/2 good years of life
You were about the 1st person to open a new door to treating snuffles on here. Remember the "bunnies in the mist" photo? You very patiently & kindly taught me about snuffles so I've referred many RUers to you by pm for advice.
Above all,I had no idea that my next bun would have snuffles. The vet thought he wouldn't last out the year, it is purely because of you teaching me so well, that Benjie has got this far. We are both deeply indebted to you & I understand the personal cost to you as the person who1st opened this door.
I don't know what you blame yourself for, whether realistic or not, but would say that you had 2 snuffles bunnies, needing years & years of constant care & vigillance. It is wrong to blame yourself through the retrospectrosope when a decision was made with far less information available at the time. Even so, no one on this earth can be 100% right all the time, so please be merciful to yourself, as I'm sure you would be to others. I'm sure that Bisc holds nothing against you at all, rather loves you so much for all that you gave him. He would be so distressed watching you pull yourself apart.
Time? I think the searing pain diminishes. It's good to remember the good times, the funny times, - I call it my "treasure chest" which is always there to be opened. I still talk about Thumper, (probably some who didn't know us think I have 2 buns now!!)
There are also times to shed tears. It's a case of balance. I just say, please don't let the ending rob you of all those wonderful years you had together. Yes, there is still a Thumper shaped hole in my life, but it's eased by all the fond memmories.
It may not help your grief, but may I take this opportunity to express my deep indebtedness to you, for giving a no hope baby bunny 51/2 good years of life
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biscandmatt1
Wise Old Thumper
bunnies in the mist
i love and miss my boys so much x
i love and miss my boys so much x
biscandmatt1
Wise Old Thumper
2006:
the start of our very special journey.
the start of our very special journey.
What lovely photo's which I haven't seen before.
Now for the tough bit. Are you able to lay aside the present grief & remember what it was like before snuffles reared it's ugly head. Remember how you felt watching them all cuddled up? All the happy feelings, the funny times.
So you will be able to see that you were given something sooo precious & absolutely unique. Although you may not have it now, the point is, that you had it then. It is part of your life, & no one or anything can take that experience away from you, when ever you want to resavour it. This is what I call my "treasure chest". I live in the present, but when it seems cold & empty, I take a quick trip to my treasure chest, & think I'm so glad I experienced that, smile & even laugh a little.
Are you able to do that yet?
Now for the tough bit. Are you able to lay aside the present grief & remember what it was like before snuffles reared it's ugly head. Remember how you felt watching them all cuddled up? All the happy feelings, the funny times.
So you will be able to see that you were given something sooo precious & absolutely unique. Although you may not have it now, the point is, that you had it then. It is part of your life, & no one or anything can take that experience away from you, when ever you want to resavour it. This is what I call my "treasure chest". I live in the present, but when it seems cold & empty, I take a quick trip to my treasure chest, & think I'm so glad I experienced that, smile & even laugh a little.
Are you able to do that yet?
MightyMax
Banned
2006:
the start of our very special journey.
I've never seen those photos
How special they were and how special you are for caring for them so wonderfully and carefully.
Miss Binky Bunny
Alpha Buck
Oh BiscandMatt1, a huge hug for you. I wasn't aware of what happened to Bisc at the time, but I've been going through much of a similar time myself since the loss of Mr B, and very much as Mackers post. I know you loved Bisc so much and he loved you too and equally as much. They are beautiful photos and he will always be with you in your heart. x
