I will never forget the day my precious, chunky, and beloved doggie, Oswald, died. My pug was with me during some of the darkest days of my life; the loss of my 24 year marriage, my family, my home, my security, and life as I knew it was gone. I was on shifting sand emotionally, and Oswald was a great comfort to me daily.
This love bucket often stayed up late at night with me as I studied ferociously during grad school. He licked my tears throughout my losses, and cuddled with me at night. As he snored softly into my ear, he was reminding me that I was not alone. He was my companion. We went everywhere together, we were two peas in a proverbial pod.
I often wonder if Oswald’s health deteriorated because of the emotional stressors of the time. Even though he was a relatively young dog, he had many health challenges and needed surgeries, and then weeks later I felt something was “off” with him, and I returned to the vet with an uneasy feeling.
The vet looked at me that fateful day and said, “We need to put him down, Genie.” With those words my heart felt as if it stopped.
She explained Oswald was suffering and in terrible pain. He needed another complicated surgery but his chances of survival were not good, and even if he survived, he would be facing other health challenges.
I looked at Oswald’s sweet face and made a decision right then.
I let him go.
I held him, and stroked his petal soft ears as he took his very last breath, grateful that this little creature accompanied me on the journey of what I dubbed my “season of suffering.” His death marked the end of my education to becoming a therapist, and I felt he hung on to life until I reached the end of my major goals.
The reality of Oswald not coming home that day never even entered my mind until I walked through the doors of my house after his vet appointment. Immediately, I started railing at the universe. I screamed at God. In my heart I felt like Job, a Biblical character in the Scriptures who had lost nearly everything. All I had left of my family was this “little dog who brought me happiness”, and now THAT small bit of comfort had been taken from me. What had I done to deserve this? Nothing, but that truth is for another blog post.
To say I felt morose would be an understatement, everything felt grey and cold.
Until I found Timmie, a starving and terrified dog in a shelter. I didn’t mean to find him, I think he actually found me. He showed up on my Facebook feed a little while after Oswald died. I have never had a dog show up on my feed before, or since that time. I hadn’t even signed up for dog information. But there was the dog, the information that was sent to me was probably a fluke, most likely a mistake that was sent to me, but meant for someone else. I decided to take a risk on a shelter dog I had never met before and adopted him that week.
I am sharing this story because I want you to know that loss is awful, but love lives on forever. In my life, dogs have loved me more unconditionally, and robustly than family. It would be normal for me to grieve him from time to time.
Life does go on, and so does the love that Oswald gave me, he continues to live on in my memories and in my heart. He was a light in a dark time. Even with all of the positives in my life; today, I miss Oswald. Even though I got through school, even though I opened up a psychotherapy practice, and even though Timmie is a great comfort to me and I love him to pieces….today, I am grieving for my Oswald.
Sometimes losses stay with us for a long time. It’s okay to not be okayish. You can miss “your Oswald”, whatever that might be, and no matter how long ago that loss occurred. Expiration dates are for food, not for feelings.
We are allowed to deeply love, grieve, and yearn for that which existed and is now gone.
Where Minds Bloom,
Genie
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