Saturday, August 12, 2017

100 Different Thoughts

Since Sammy's death my mind has been flooded with 100 different thoughts each going in its own direction sometimes with no relation to the other thoughts.

  • I think about Sam constantly. I asked the kids last night if he was constantly on their minds. Andy said that while he does think about Sammy throughout the day is in only in passing sporadic moments. Like me, Joshua and Sarah have him constantly on their mind too. 
  • We all have slipped up and said something to allude to the fact that Sammy is still alive. I called his name on accident after I called Lily's to see if he needed to be taken outside too to use the restroom. Each of the kids have referred to the dogs that we have instead of the dog we have. We have looked at Lily and called her Sammy (not that the two look anything alike).  
  • Andy, Sarah, and I have dreamed about Sam since his death. I do not remember my dream. I only know that I woke up with wet eyes because whatever was happening in my dream with him caused me to cry. Sarah and Andy's dreams were pleasant. 
  • Someone gave us a poem that talked about rainbows being the connection between heaven and earth - our dog and us. Yesterday when we were eating pizza 3 rainbows appeared on the ceiling of our living room as the sun hit one of Andy's card boxes. I didn't care what the cause of the rainbow was I just knew it was a rainbow and that Sammy was with us. It was very much what I needed.
  • I worry about Sammy. Is he okay? Does he have friends where he is? Is he lonely? Is he happy? Does he miss us? Does he remember us? I don't want him to miss us or be lonely. I want him to be content and happy. I want him to be having fun. I want him to be in heaven, but I am not sure that heaven exists for our pets. Does it? I never really gave that idea much thought. It keeps me up at night - that uncertainty - that there might not be a heaven for animals. But then again, why wouldn't there be?
  • When I think about the heaven thing one thought I keep going back to was that once Sammy had died and we were with his body I knew that he wasn't there any more. I knew that what we were crying over was just the vessel that contained him, but that the essence of him was gone. It was a weird feeling to know that one minute he was with us and the next minute he wasn't. Shouldn't that confirm that heaven is for our animals too? I still feel uncertain about it and that uncertainty is driving me crazy. 
  • I have been bringing Lily just about everywhere with me. Every errand, every walk, to bed with me. I try to keep her as close to me as possible because she is a link to him. She was what he loved most and when I am with her I feel like I am kinda with him.
  • I feel bad for Lily. Because I am completely rational human being (not really) I actually sat her down and talked to Lily like I would a human being and told her that Sam had died. I told her that he wasn't coming home. I told her that he had had bone marrow cancer. I wonder if she knew this. I thought I had read somewhere that some dogs can smell cancer. Did she know he was sick? Did he know he was sick? And if so, for how long?
  • I wonder what that feels like for animal to one day be a part of a pair and then the next day not be. I wonder if they understand what is happening or if they always wonder what happened to their partner. What a terrible feeling that must be. 
  • Part of me thinks that Lily knew  that Sammy died because after he had died she immediately got up and walked away from his body and sat down near the door as if she was ready to leave the room. She is such a smart dog that maybe I should give her more credit than I do about how much she understood/understands what is happening. 
  • I have yet to wash the blanket that is sitting in front of my washing machine that contained the blood from Sammy's nose bleed. There is quite a bit of blood on the blanket and I just couldn't wash it before today because I didn't want to eliminate another physical piece of Sammy J from this house. I am washing that blanket today. It is time and I will most likely cry as I put it in the washing machine. I will keep that blanket for the a long, long time stains and all as it is one of the few physical reminders of a dog I love(d) with all of my heart.  I know this sounds so gross and ew and completely crazy. Just rereading it has me thinking I have lost my mind, but this is where I am at in my grieving process and I am doing my best to honor where I am instead of trying to push it away. 
  • My head keeps telling me that he was just a dog, he was just a dog, he was just a dog...but my heart keeps telling my head to shut the h#!@ up because he wasn't just a dog. He was a member of our family. His absence is felt throughout this house in ways I never imagined. 
  • Sammy's ashes should be ready in the next few days. I hope that I am really going to get his ashes back. I fear that people who cremate animals don't really do so and instead take advantage of people who are mourning. I fear that I am going to get fake ashes back or some other dog's ashes back or a mixture of a number of different dogs' ashes back. Cremation requires a level of faith and trust in a system that I am just not sure I have. 
  • We are going to put Sammy's ashes in a box along with his collar, leash, and dog bowl. I am going to the craft store today to buy that box. On the outside I am going to ask the kids to write their favorite memories of Sammy. Bob and I will do the same. 
  • Those people who have shared their own dog/cat/animal stories with me via Facebook or my blog have been comforting in ways I didn't think possible. I loved the stories that each took the time to tell me.
  • I cannot imagine my heart ever healing. I have grieved before and I know that with time the scab will form over this open wound. Eventually it will become a scar. Walking through that process is like walking through the pits of hell for me. I just want to numb my pain. I want to build a wall around my heart so that I don't hurt anymore. But I will not allow myself to do this. I need to sit in this fire and feel its heat and know that this hurt only means that I loved Sammy exactly as he deserved: deeply and with everything I had to give.