It’s been two weeks today that I woke up and you couldn’t walk. Your breath was short, and strained, and I knew. I knew that it was the day. After laying with you for hours on the bedroom floor, crying and having one of the hardest talks with you that I’ve ever had to have, Scott called the vet for me and we made an appointment to take you in and put your strong little body to rest.
It was two weeks today that we never made it to the vet. Instead, you left us in the comfort of our living room in a moment that was both immensely traumatic and peaceful beyond words. It was what I had wanted all along, to let you die naturally at home on your own time. The week before you left me was so beautifully perfect, like a concert concerto leading up to the big crescendo. I drove you into the mountains, letting the cool air touch your face out of the car window, putting a smile on your face. I put your feet in the river and you looked so happy. I even took you to your favorite spot outside of Durango (see photos), and although you were too winded to walk much, it gave me peace that we could share that place together one last time. And the way you reached out and put your paw on my arm as I sang to you before you died, it killed me with sweetness and reminded me that you and me, we “got” eachother. We understood the way sisters do, that our love was endless, even in the hours that framed death.
You are missed beyond words. I hate being home and I cry for your at least once a day. I never realized how exhausting it would be to be strong and wear a smile around people during the day. It’s the silence that makes it so hard and the littlest things that are so different. It’s a life I never wanted to know; the life without you. I honestly hate it, but I know it will get easier. I feel like August 2014 is a new chapter in my life. It’s a time to put thoughts into actions, take care of myself, and make some changes. This hole in my chest feels like a roadblock though. It hurts to move forward and so I find myself in this internal tug-of-war with myself, not knowing if I should sit quietly with this grief, or get out and take action on my life. Just know, wherever you are, that you are right next to me in whatever I do. You were so much more than my pet. You were my companion and life-mate; my best friend and sister. Thank you, for almost 15 years of unconditional love.
You beautiful, beautiful girl.
These two photos were taken by my wonderful friend and photographer, Claire, who happened to be visiting the week Daphnie passed. I can’t thank her enough for snapping a few images of us and for being the most amazing support and love we needed at such a difficult time. Daphnie sure loved her Auntie Claire!
And thank YOU (family/friends/blog readers) for being so wonderful and so kind. Your words have meant so much. And Durango friends, I haven’t felt like myself much lately, so I apologize for my quiet nature, my anti-social responses, and for being a little unlike myself. I’m trying to figure out what “normal” is again.