Lonely Days by Judy Lynch

Lonely Days

by Judy Lynch

Lonely Days by Judy Lynch It's been 2 months since my beloved Schnauzer, Hansel, has passed away and I am still feeling the pain of his loss. Hansel had been sick for a few months. I had a feeling that it was the beginning of the end. I tried to prepare myself for the worse, but I still wasn't ready to let him go. He was getting progressively thinner and weaker by the day. He could hardly walk. Despite treatment, all my hopes, and my prayers, he wasn't getting better. He didn't show that he was in pain, but he couldn't have felt well. His quality of life was not very good anymore. As painful a decision as it was for me, I knew it was time to put him to rest. That afternoon I dug a hole in the garden. I could hardly see through my tears, so I had to elicit the help of a neighbor. I went to the nursery and selected a pretty purple butterfly bush. I told the kind young man at the cashier what it was for. He put his hand on mind and expressed his sympathy. He doesn't know how much that meant to me. I could hardly compose myself to speak. That evening I put Hansel on a pillow and sat on the floor next to him. I looked through pictures and reminisced of the past, all the things we had done together, places we had gone, people he had touched, and special times together. I made a collage of my favorite pictures. He had a good life and I hope he knew how much I loved him and how much he meant to me. He was a source of comfort and companionship, of unconditional love and acceptance, of fun and joy. He was my friend and confidant. I cut some lockets of his hair and tied them with blue embroidery floss. That night I laid next to him in my bed. I couldn't sleep knowing what the next day would bring. I had to have someone drive me because I didn't think I could and I needed the support. When someone held him while I took care of business, he was still aware and looking around for me. I cradled his head and stroked him as the vet gave the medicine. As it went in, it must have burned his vein. He lifted up his head and yelped briefly. I wasn't expecting that and it was very difficult, but I'm glad I was with him as he fell into eternal sleep. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but it was a final act of love. I took him home and wrapped in one of his blankets and his put his stuffed toy squirrel with him. Putting him down in the ground was pretty tough. I planted the butterfly bush on top. It reminds me of the circle of life. I found a place that sandblasts natural river stones. I had one made to mark his grave in the garden. The first week was very rough. I couldn't even go to work. I cried a river of tears and my eyelids were so swollen. I did not even attempt to wear my contacts. At first I felt so numb and lost, I could hardly concentrate. There was such a void in my life. I busied myself with tasks as washing his bed and linens, putting away his bowls and things, and throwing out his ragged stuffed toys. I gave his food and treats away to my neighbors that had dogs. It also gave me the opportunity to tell them what happened, if they hadn't heard. It helped me face the reality of his death. I wrote a memorial for the local newspaper since he was such a public dog and a tribute for the newsletter of our pet visitation group. It helped me think about the good times and focus on his life and not his death. It was therapeutic and healing for me. I sent letters with pictures and lockets of hair to friends. I spoke with the vet about questions and regrets I had to help me find some answers, peace, and closure. Hansel use to follow me around the house. When I take a shower, I close the door to keep the steam in the room, but don't hatch it closed. Hansel would usually come looking for me and would push the door open, then lay in the doorway. One day that first week I swore I heard the familiar "boink" of the door hitting the doorstop. I knew it couldn't be, but I just had to look. No, the door was still closed. I don't know if my mind was playing tricks on me, or if I heard something else, but it seemed so real! For a while, I would have fleeting thoughts like I have to get home to let the dog out. Oh, yeah I'd see the squirrel outside and want say "look Hansel, there's the squirrel". Then I'd remember I'd look expecting to see him following me around the house. But he wouldn't be thereThere are reminders everywhere. When I would be eating something he loved, like pizza, I would look down and I could just imagine him there sitting patiently looking at me with his pleading eyes for some "pizza bones" (crusts). One day, I put a big 20lb bag of birdseed by the back sliding glass door, so that I would remember to fill the feeders. Later, when I came around the corner and saw that bag there from a distance, it looked like his profile. My heart nearly stopped! I could just see him sitting there watching the backyard. He would get so excited to see the squirrel that his ears would tremble sometimes. He loved to chase the squirrel, but never got close to catching them. I still have not been able to bring myself to clean the nose prints off the door. It's like apart of him is still here. April is usually one of my favorite times of the year, with spring flowers, Easter, my birthday, and a local festival, Fiesta. I couldn't bring myself to celebrate my birthday that week, as I was so sad. Fiesta activities did help bring up my spirits though. One event is a neighborhood activity, where people bring their dogs. Hansel and I would usually go and have a good time. He did so well in the crowds and enjoyed the attention. It was hard to go without him. There are other activities that I also associate with him, like going for walks in the neighborhood and hiking at the parks. That first walk without him wasn't easy. Some days I think I'm doing okay and someone will ask me what's wrong. Even though I put on a smile at work, I guess the sadness still shows in my eyes. I feel kinda guilty sometimes. I've cried more over him than some relatives! A month after he was gone, I got some photographs back. Of course I had some pictures of him at Christmas time that made me cry. He was already looking thinner. They're the last pictures I have of him now. I am fortunate to have caring and supportive family, friends, and co-workers that I can talk to that understand what I'm going through. He was so much a part of my every day life and routine, that I miss him so much. But I am getting use to him not being around. The house seems so empty and I miss him not greeting me when I come home. He has left a big hole in my heart, but everyday is getting a little better. Life goes on and I have hope for brighter days. ROMANS 15:13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Comments would be appreciated by the author, Judy Lync