She's Gone

So many emotions. Not sure where to start. We put Abby to sleep tonight. She is gone. Gone from our world, our lives, our home, our family. Gone forever. Or is she? I was there. I held her head in my hands and looked in her eyes as she lay on a blanket on the floor at the vet's office. I watched as the vet injected her front leg with a drug that would sedate her and make her sleepy. I looked into her eyes and told her that she was my first baby, that I loved her, and that it was OK for her to go and to enjoy a new life with those who have gone before her. I felt her eyes gaze trustingly into mine until she could no longer hold her head up and I lay her down to sleep. To sleep in peace eternally in the world that was awaiting her. I stayed in the room with my sleeping baby until Rob and I gave her enough tears. Enough hugs and caresses to send her off into her new life and away from ours. The vet did a last check to make sure she was gone. But was she?

I watched her go, but yet I still feel her with me. Isn't she at the foot of the bed? Isn't she downstairs pacing around waiting for someone to feed her and take her out for a walk? Isn't she taking a nap in the sun that is streaming through the dining room window?

But it is more than just the memories making me feel that she is still here. She is in my heart. In the stories Rob and I have been sharing about her all night. In the clear visions I see of her swimming, cuddling, and licking my face. And she is in heaven. In the heaven we came home and told our children she was in. The one where she is running, playing, jumping and being cared for by their Nauna Mary Jane. Their Nauna who was Abby's first owner and who is so happy to be receiving this treasured gift back again.

I truly feel blessed to have been able to hold Abby and be with her to take her from this world to the next. I know in my heart that she is in a better place, free from pain and suffering. How fortunate am I that I got to be the one that she trusted completely to support her while she journeyed from her earthly body to her spiritual, eternal self.

So why then am I so sad? Why have the tears been flowing all night for Rob and I? Why are my children burying their heads in their pillows and crying because Abby has died? If she is in a better place, why are we so worried and upset about it? Shouldn't we just be happy for her?

Obviously, my children can not comprehend what has happened. They just know that a member of their family is gone. And unfortunately having had experienced the death of a loved one, they know she is not coming back. But what about me? I know that she is gone from this earth, but not really "gone". Just home. Heaven. But what is heaven? Is it really a place "up there" with golden gates and a loving man in a white beard? Or is it something inside of us already that we can only achieve through death of this human life and birth into something eternal? I can accept all that on a day to day basis, but when I am watching someone who is a part of me die, I would rather believe in a heaven full of angels, fluffy white clouds, and all of the pleasures that one could possibly imagine rather than just a different energy level or universal being.

So while I found myself feeling blessed for having Abby in my life for 11+ years and for having the opportunity to not only say goodbye to her but to be with her in her journey from this earth to what lies ahead, I find myself worrying about what does await her on the other side. And worrying about where to tell my children she has gone, when I am not sure how to describe it myself.

Well, nothing motivates you to make a decision quicker than having your child ask you a direct question. Both my children asked tonight if Abby was in heaven, how she got there, and who was taking care of her while she was there. And when those questions came at me broken up through tearful and scared voices, I knew what to do. I told them about a heaven where dogs find their new heavenly bodies and run free and energetically as if they were puppies again. A heaven where dogs are taken care of by loved ones who are already there and where they are given everything they could desire and more. A heaven where they are loved unconditionally and where they become angels who visit the earth to watch over us and keep a special place in our hearts forever.

Tonight I feel as if I don't have to know everything. I don't have to be enlightened or spiritual enough to know the meaning of this life or the next. If a heaven with acres of beautiful pastures and doggie cloud beds makes my children and I feel better, then that is what heaven will be tonight. After all, any belief we may have about heaven or what lies hereafter all is centered on love and peace. If Abby is full of love and at peace tonight, then whatever and wherever that heaven is, is where I want her to be.

Be at peace Abby. Be free of pain. Run with the breeze on your back and the sun on your face. Savor each and every meaty bone you find. Enjoy the love and the affection of all the children and animal lovers that abound in heaven. Find a fluffy white cloud to lay upon to rest. And know that you were and are truly loved and will remain forever in our hearts and minds. I love you baby.

May your heart be at ease,
Angela सन्तोष

Saying Goodbye

What would you do for someone you loved if you knew the exact moment when they were going to die? Would you take them to visit all of their favorite places? Would you make all of their favorite foods for them to eat? Would you arrange for family and friends to come and say their goodbye's? Would you spend every moment with them until that last one? Would you explain it to your children before or after that someone was gone?

Now what would you do if that someone you loved was your dog?

My husband and I were sitting on our porch a few nights ago enjoying the beautiful night sky. Not wanting us to become lonely, my daughter came out to join us. Soon after, my son came out to see what he was missing. "The whole family is here!" I said. "No, silly mommy," said Lindsey. "Abby isn't here."

Abby is our 14 1/2 year old black lab. She was our first baby. A "practice child" some people might say. We met Abby after returning from our honeymoon in Hawaii. She was a gift to Rob's mom from his brother. She was three years old at the time, and still very much a puppy. I wish I could say it was love at first sight, but honestly, I could not stand her! I think dogs know when someone is not too fond of them, and they do everything they can to turn you around to being their friend. Abby loved to jump on me, lick me, and eat my food. At 80 pounds, she also wanted to be my personal lap dog. She really had no sense of personal space and simply would not leave me alone. (You see why dogs are often called 'practice children?')

So when we had just moved into our brand new townhouse and Rob asked if we could bring Abby with us, I have to say I was less than thrilled. Unlike Rob, I had never had a dog growing up. My mom said feeding and cleaning up after five kids was quite enough for her! But Rob had fallen in love with Abby from their first meeting. His mom was now too sick and weak to care for Abby anymore, and if we didn't take her - well, I won't tell you all the horrible things that my husband told me might happen to her. He really can be persuasive when he wants to be! The deal was that we would give it three months. If I didn't want the dog to stay with us by the end of that time, we would find her a new home.

Well, of course after three months I was in love. Not only was Abby living in our house, but she was sleeping in our bed and had taken residence in my heart. I couldn't stand leaving her when we went away and would call daily to check on her. We went on long walks together and I took her swimming in the lake. She received her own Christmas stocking filled with wrapped gifts, and more hugs and kisses than a dog could ever desire.

When Brandon was born, I swore Abby would never be ignored just because there was a new baby in the house. Of course this became impossible, especially after Lindsey also blessed our lives, and Abby ended up taking a back seat especially in those early baby years. But she was OK with it and as long as she had her place at the foot of our bed and food in her bowl, she was very happy. The kids soon became old enough to play with her, pet her, and even take her for walks. They have never known life without her and to them she is not a pet, but a member of the family.

Abby no longer sleeps at the foot of our bed. She can't jump high enough anymore to get on the mattress. She can't go swimming or on long walks anymore, as the arthritis in her hips has made her weak. Over the past six months, we have seen her tail wag less and less and it is quite painful for her to lie down. She falls a lot and has frequent accidents in the house. The kids have noticed that Abby is getting worse and Brandon has started to say that it makes him sad to see Abby hurting. It is time.

Many people said we would "just know" when it was time to put our dog down. I remember people saying I would also "just know" when it was time to get married and when it was time to have a baby. But "just knowing" has never really worked for me. I've always just worried about things and thought about things until I had to make a decision. Now I am at the point in my life where I am trying not to worry so much anymore. So I couldn't use that old crutch to help make this very difficult decision. Instead, I had to look at the facts, sit with it, pray on it, and then make the best decision I could based on the information I have at this time. Does that mean I am not worried about it? Of course not. But I am doing what I can to be grateful for the great gift I have been given - the many wonderful years with a treasured friend.

How will my kids handle this? How will my husband? How will I? Yep, I must admit I worry about that. Do we tell the kids before or after? What do we tell them? I suppose I will take all I have learned and take it one moment at a time. Approach the subject with gratitude for having had Abby for so many years and to find joy and comfort in our memories. I don't "have to" put Abby down. I "get to" say goodbye to her, hold her, hug her, and guide her lovingly on to what comes next for her spirit, her energy. I will let myself be sad, let my husband be sad, let my kids be sad. Embrace those feelings and then let them go when it is time. I won't try to predict how we are all going to handle it or try to control it. I will just try and accept it and take it moment by moment, emotion by emotion. Let my children show me what they need before reacting to feelings they might not be having. Thoughts they may not be thinking. We will breathe.

It is very strange to know the exact moment that you will say goodbye to someone you love. But if we can accept it with grace and gratitude, it may be a moment of great love and peace.

May your heart be at ease,
Angela सन्तोष