As many of you know by now, if you’ve been keeping up with my blogs, I lost my best friend Rocky on Friday, March 24th.
I got the call from the vets office this afternoon that he was ready for pickup. I posted a YouTube short.
The day he passed, I really didn’t tell anyone. I believe I only told five people, two of which are friends and the other three being family members.
Part of the reason why I didn’t really tell anyone was because I didn’t really know how to break it to people. The other reason was because I just genuinely didn’t feel like talking to anyone, which is mostly the case still today.
I think we all know that at some point, sooner or later, that our loved ones (humans or pets) will leave us at some point. But even if you know it’s coming, you’re never prepared for how it feels.
During that whole process with Rocky when things changed on that Thursday night, March 23rd, I made a vet appointment for him first thing Friday morning. I was pretty hush-hush about it because I didn’t want to lead people believing everything was going to be all right, or the other scenario. So when it became official that I had to make that tough decision, I started to break the news to a select few people.
But during that process, during the final conversation & goodbye I had with Rocky, never once did I think about how I was feeling. So it was a big surprise to me after the experience ended that not only was my heart shattered, but my emotions & spirit were as well. I wasn’t prepared for the aftermath of losing my best friend, and since then I’ve wondered why no one tells you what really happens when you lose a furry friend…
No one tells you how hard that final goodbye is. It’s almost like you are sleepwalking through the final goodbye, in a haze of disbelief.
No one tells you how much pressure builds up in your head, shoulders & heart as you await the doctors arrival to tell you what’s going on & what the deal is. Your head feels like it’s about to explode & you can barely keep your eyes open as the tears are continually falling.
No one tells you how much your heart hurts as you hand over your best friend to God. You know the suffering is ending, but it still feels like a piece of your heart is going with them to heaven.
I wrote this in my first blog on Rocky: It was kind of like you let the air out of the balloon, & that’s the only way I can explain it. The day he left, it was never the same. Rocky was my beating heart, & my heart hasn’t beat as well as it did before, once he was gone.
No one tells you that your legs feel like jelly & you can barely walk back to the car carrying nothing but a collar & leash, & you start dry heaving from the remorse.
No one explains the depth of your sobs & how your whole body is consumed with grief….that washes over you so powerfully that you can’t control yourself.
No one tells you how cavernous & empty your house feels. And how heartbroken you are when you see their toys, beds, & food bowl.
No one tells you that you will still see your pet even though they are gone for days, weeks, etc. afterwards. You see them laying on their favorite chair or bed, you look for them in the places they’d always hide out in. You can still smell & feel their presence.
No one tells you that you will still accidentally try to feed them. It took years to build a routine & will take months to break those habits.
No one tells you that you will reach for them at night, and ache to hold, hug, pet, & kiss them just one more time.
No one tells you that you won’t be hungry for a few days or weeks after the tragic event.
No one tells you that this is the hardest thing you’ll ever do for your friend.
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