I learned something this week.
Not much, mind you, but something.
When we lost Emma on Monday I was surprised at how incredibly painful it was.
I felt as if someone was actually tearing my heart in half.
I expected to feel sad, of course.
Very, very sad.
But I didn’t expect pain.
And, being me, naturally I had to analyze the whole thing.
And, being me, naturally I have to share what I learned.
It’s not anything that will help others cope with a loss – but it may help their friends and family understand better what they’re trying to cope with.
We’ve all experienced loss, whether it be of a pet, a parent or other family member, a job or a friend.
What I was having a hard time understanding this week was why the loss of my, admittedly wonderful, dog affected me more profoundly than the loss of a friend or even, dare I say it, my father.
I think most of us understand that, when we grieve, we are grieving for ourselves, for the gap in our lives.
When my friend’s partner ‘dropped dead’ of a heart-attack at the age of 45 I grieved because I would miss hearing his scintillating conversation at our occasional dinner parties.
My friend grieved because she would miss him at dinner every single night….
When my father died I grieved because I would never again see him sitting in ‘his’ chair, overseeing Thanksgiving or Christmas or birthday celebrations on my visits home.
My mother grieved because that chair would be empty every day, all day, always.
This was the first time that I had a loss that affected my ‘routine’.
For all other losses in my life I have had my routine to return to.
I went home to my husband and family, where everyday life continued on, a bit more sadly for awhile, but basically unchanged.
Even when I’ve lost other pets, I could go to work, where people duly expressed sympathy, and the bulk of the day went forward, unaffected.
When you work at home it’s different.
Emma was my routine.
I get up at dawn – because that’s when dogs get up.
I throw some clothes on and we go out for first walk. Emma and I would walk up the hill to look at the sunrise.
Well, I looked; she chased bunnies.
Sedi watched from the gate. (She’s too crippled to walk that far).
Now Sedi watches me and I walk alone.
After breakfast, I made coffee and went to my desk to start my day. Emma came, without fail, and demanded the first of many cuddles. Sedi had a nap.
Mid-morning she would remind me that it was time for second walk and second cuddles.
And so on through-out the day until we took a last walk up the hill, me gazing at the stars, and Emma, once again, chasing bunnies; Sedi, once again, watching from the gate.
That’s what I grieve for.
That routine, that life, is gone forever.
It’s a big, gaping hole that I am slowly trying to fill.
Yesterday, I took my camera for a walk (while Sedi sat at the gate and watched).
I couldn’t do that with Emma. If I stood still too long I would get a ‘head-butt’ in the back of the legs.
I’m trying to maintain the old routines for Sedi’s sake and trying to create new routines for my sake.
I may have understood this all on an intellectual level before; now, maybe, I understand it on an emotional level.
I do hope I remember all this the next time I’m trying to comfort someone.
Grief and loss are much more complicated….
It’s just what I learned this week.
And, just so you know, life is slowly getting back to normal, chez nous…. New routines and all.
The last time I thought of Emma it was with smiles, not tears. (Oops, spoke too soon…)
And, just so you know, comfort food is always helpful. (You were wondering how I was going to work that in, weren’t you?)
The recipe, Pasta with Pork, Peas, & Peppers, has been updated and re-posted here: Pasta with Pork & Peas.
I even miss having to sweep up all of Emma’s beautiful long white hair every day.
Although, I don’t think that’s how I thought of it at the time.
Hmm….
Selective memory sets in.
And, just so you know, this is the last sad post about Emma.
Emma, at the end…. Sigh…
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Hi Katie
I’d just like to say that I think this post WILL help others cope with loss – help them see that others have these thoughts and feelings, too. Help us all see that we’re normal to feel the way we do.
Loved the bit about selective memory and sweeping up dog hair – our black Labrador seems to leave drifts of it everywhere!
And the recipe looks divine. I don’t think I’m ever going to shift my Christmas kilos when your recipes continue to tempt and inspire!
With my love,
Gee x
Jeez Katie, now you’re making ME cry.. I still miss my walks around the yard with my buddy Newman (the cat), seven years later.
Chuck
This is a very intuitive insight into the grieving process Kate. I have never really thought about why I would grieve as a child for my neighbours dog and not for a grandgather who lived on another continent.
Hi Katie: You are a master at your art. Very nice heart felt tribute to Emma.
I read this just after sweeping up Duffy’s long blond hair (I grumbled while doing it).
We got her for the girls, but it’s with me she spends the day. I am the receiver of head butts when she wants something. I didn’t think I’d get attached, but I am.
Cheers to our dog friends, past and present 🙂
You can have as many sad posts as you want. It is hard to lose a pet who’s a part of your routine. How is Sedi doing? One of the hardest things when our dog Teddy died was watching our other dog, Gracie, roam the house, looking for him, for two days. And then she was depressed. Broke my heart even more.
Beautifully spoken Katie, so true. That picture of Emma is so sweet.
Love that photo of Emma – what a great aspect she had! I find with my dogs that I’m sad, on and off, for a very long time. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself tearing up many months from now as you recall some beloved aspect of your dear friend. I also think the suddenness is part of the grief – it was unexpected and you had little time to process the loss before it happened. Just makes it even harder. Sending healing thoughts.
Katie – my heart goes out to you! (I think my first comment got lost) Reading your post put tears in my eyes – I so understand about the loss and routine. Bless your heart, my thoughts are with you, Ina
Well analyzed, Katie!
I too was surprised at just how devastated I was when our really quite ornery selectively-incontinent cat died. For the last 3 years of his long life, we had to barricade the living room rug. And after he died, we too were uncommonly sorry to suddenly have the living room unlocked and entirely available.
I hope you have put Emma’s cairn up on the top of the hill so you and she can still watch the sunrise every day.
Love that photo at the end of the post. What a beautiful dog Emma was.
Katie, your writing is wonderful, and instructive to those who have lost a dog, have a dog, or are thinking about getting a dog. Since dogs don’t (usually*) outlive us, dog owners and potential owners need to also understand this aspect of what they are committing to.
We feel the gap in the house where Aurora used to be and miss her Malamute character, even though we well knew when we adopted her that she was old and had medical conditions. Not to mention “missing” the fact that we had to rearrange the living room furniture in order for her to be able to make wide turns there — like the battleship Missouri she was.
I like that photo of Emma, too. What a beautiful dog and she obviously oozed love and devotion for you.
*We are considering adopting a Malamute who, along with two other small dogs, had their owner up and die on them — a reversal of the usual event. The Malamute has been rescued and put into “isolation” (a foster home with no other pets) and remains quite distressed over losing her pack leader and her buddies. Dogs feel loss of a human (or, at least, pack leader) in the same way we feel loss of a pack member.
Very well analyzed indeed. Which is why I have a tendency to keep my mouth shut when other folks are grieving — it’s very, very personal process. Instead what they get from me is “I’m so sorry”, “What can I do for you?”, lots of hugs (if they are cool with them), and food.
My two older cats are 13? 14? I’d have to check. I *dread* losing either one of them, both for their sakes (they are siblings) and for mine. For all of the annoying habits they both have, they are a part of our lives, and we have our routines. Not as strict as Emma’s, apparently, but routines.
I’d try to feed you, but you are in France and I’m not. So more electronic hugs (unless you’d rather I stopped) and healing thoughts to you, your dear husband, and Sedi.
Please don’t make this the last post about Emma – she was as much part of your life as any human family member – reminicsing is vital – where would we be without memories !
What a beautiful post. I’m so sorry your lovely Emma is gone. ((hugs))
Katie I am so sorry for your loss. You have put into words what I have tried to understand…why sometimes is does seem that the loss of a pet can feel more life changing then the loss of some people.
Thanks, Gee… I can’t believe I’m missing those white drifts – they were everywhere!
brassfrog, you’re buddy, Newman… Love that thought!
Val, thanks… I really needed to sort this out for me.
Thanks, Evelyn
Meredith, the ever-constant sweeping of the dog hair… They do worm their way into our hearts, don’t they? Head-butts and all.
Amy, Sedi is a true bitch – in all ways LOL. I think she misses her, though she would never admit it. But, she’s not doing well. Her time will come all too soon, I’m afraid.
Baking Soda, Emma was the nicest dog I’ve ever met…. Really ;-))
Zoomie, it was so quick, I never had a chance to say good-bye, really… better for her, though.
Thanks, Ina, that means a lot….
Elizabeth, yes, all the things we complained about seem to be missed the most… Strange lot, we humans…
TikiPundit, Sedi can’t make those turns anymore, either. And if she forgets to lay on a rug she can’t get up…. Sigh, her time is coming, I’m afraid. What a great idea – I think I’ll ask our vet about homeless dogs… I’ve never heard of a shelter here, though. Andorra had big shelters – they never put animals down, so the French and Spanish used to bring unwanted pets to Andorra and abandon them. That’s where Sedi is from – and abandonada
Laurie, electronic hugs are always welcome… Hope your kitties live a long time yet 😉
mannignroad, at least I’m starting to smile at the memories, now – not always, but sometimes…
Maureen, thanks – she was a beautiful dog.
Pam, I think (sometimes) we like to ignore how much our pets mean to us