It’s been 48 hours and the only two words I can use to adequately describe my state right now are: broken and lost.
I keep thinking I should do things like clean the house, tidy up the back garden in between deluges of rain, change the linen on my bed, make a banana cake for Love Bug for school lunches this week, read. But I can’t seem to actually do any of it.
I want to lay on my bed and hold onto Beary and let my tears come when they come. He looks as broken and lost as I feel. We have been all but inseparable for two days and nights.
We took Love Bug to school yesterday morning and made drop off last as long as we possibly could. We got coffee. We filled up the car with petrol. We went to another place to put air in the tyres. Whether they needed it or not. We went to the pet store to buy Beary a new halter. Eventually we had to come home.
I opened the front door and he bounded down the hallway tail wagging, looking for his best friend. He went from room to room then looked at me with that gorgeous goofy face of his and whimpered. It was like he only just remembered.
Last night we were on the couch together and he heard a noise. He looked up, glanced at me then stared at the door for a full minute, ears alert. As the seconds wore on I watched him deflate, realising that she was not there.
A home with no Bella doesn’t feel like a home. Opening the door without the rhythmic thumping of her tail on the wall as she eagerly awaits my arrival feels wrong. Not seeing her happy face there carrying a gift of a toy to welcome me home was like a knife through my heart.
Part of me wants to leave the house exactly as it is. Exactly. Not clean for fear I will get rid of all fibres of her that are floating around. Not put away her food bowl, but leave it there next to Beary’s forever. Not clear out the garden for poop between torrential downpours of rain for fear of getting rid of every part of her. Not wash the blankets on my bed which still have her fur stuck to them and her blood stains from where the rotten tumour attacked her nose.
Another part of me wants to close the door to the house and never go back in. To move somewhere else immediately, so that I don’t see shadows of her around every corner. So that I don’t hear her footsteps in the hall, when there are no footsteps there at all.
It was a cool night last night. I got into bed. It was the first properly cool night we’ve had in a long time. The turn of weather that would have seen Bella nuzzle under my arm and burrow under the covers to curl up behind my knees. When she warmed up she’d wriggle back up far enough that her nose poked out from under the covers, but not too far that she couldn’t snuggle in and be my little spoon.
I am worried I’ll forget. Forget her smell. Forget her warmth. Forget how her ears feel. Forget the sunshine/dirt/popcorn smell of her paws. Time will be my saviour and my terror. It will take from me things I can’t bear to part with.
Oh how I miss her. With a force that crushes my chest.
8 Comments Add yours
I am so very sorry for the loss of your sweet Bella. They leave us so soon and words are so inadequate. My heart breaks for all of you.
Heartbreaking and beautiful. Thinking of you 💙💙💙
Utterly heartbreaking 😟 i’d do anything to take away the pain i see in that photo. Beary is just as broken right now, hold each other through this grief & let loved ones help you. We’re all mourning for you. 💔🌈💔
You will never forget. You have immortalized her on these pages and she is forever in the cloud. Crying is good. Hugging is good. Sending our thoughts
Sending a massive hug, I read your other post about losing her and I wanted to comment but I didn’t seem to be able to do it justice. Firstly, to echo what others people have said “you will never forget” you won’t forget her smell or the sound of her paws. The other night I heard my dad’s voice waking me from my sleep, I knew it intrinsically the exact same way you know Bella. Time will not take that from you, years down the line you well here a noise and think it is her. She is a part of you and nothing, not even time, will every take that away.
Secondly, give yourself a break. Don’t worry about what you “should” be doing, instead do what you want to do. When I first lost BD every time I swept up I would take the pile of his hair out of my dustpan and put it back on the floor. It took me years before I could get rid, and I still have his and mity’s favourite toys in a box in my loft and every single time I pop into the loft I go and look at them and squeak them and think of them both and how much I miss them. I speak to them, as I am sure wherever they are they can hear me and I know one day I will see them again.
So for now, just look after you and your pack and know we are here if you need anything xx