I have long known about the seven steps of grief. When the Dawg looked at me with that look of, "what's happening to me" , I knew that she was really sick.The attack had come on suddenly. I got her to the vet and the other two post tell that story, but when I lost her at the vets, the shock was ever-present. The pain came as I stood by her until the very end. The anger came almost instantly as did the depression and loneliness.
By the end of the first week, I was beginning to make that much needed turn of putting a house, with a loyal pet as a member of that household back on the daily routine. The reconstruction and working through the grief process was finally coming to a close, but something just didn't feel right. There was still a void that had not been filled and I could not figure it out.
This morning, while drinking my coffee, my thoughts raced like the cartoon character, Roadrunner. Then my head cleared and I reached for the phone. After a phone call, I made another call from the information gathered on the first call. The lady on the other end was nothing less than an angel. She called me back in about ten minutes and gave me the information that I needed. Within the hour, I was on my way up US 75. It didn't matter the miles. It didn't matter the gas. There was one thing that I needed to do that I had failed to do after the Dawg's death. I had not accepted the fact that the Dawg was gone because I didn't know where she had been taken. I had to see where she was before I could accept the fact that she was gone. It wasn't final yet and I needed to have that final acceptance knowing the general vicinity of where her remains had been scattered before I could accept that she was, indeed gone and I could finally move on.
It turned out that much as I had expected, a landfill was involved. I could accept that. There is controlled methods even in a waste management facility. Some, I suppose, could not accept that fact, but in reality, it is a much more sane method than most realize.
Before leaving the house, a big old burly man broke down and cried like a baby. I had not done that process either. The people that became involved were all caring, compassionate individuals.Not once, did anyone display anything but compassion and care. They talked to people I could have never reached on my own and when the process was done, even the truck drivers in line at the scale were not displaying any signs of being mad or angry having to wait in line as the line grew because of me. It was as if the universe was working together for a common cause, as it should.
It was a bit more of a drive than I had expected, but a drive that had to be made never-the-less. On the way home, there was a much different emotion than I had experienced earlier in the day. There was no question, being able to accept the fact that the Dawg was gone and I knew where her spirit could be free-spirited, was a comfort that I had not had over the past two weeks. The final step of the grieving process had been completed and the relief it brought was like a fresh wind in the county side. My Dawg was home once again and I could let my heart mend. The pain would grow less over time, although it will never be totally gone. But now, the grief process could begin to finally end. The Dawg is now resting in peace.
By the end of the first week, I was beginning to make that much needed turn of putting a house, with a loyal pet as a member of that household back on the daily routine. The reconstruction and working through the grief process was finally coming to a close, but something just didn't feel right. There was still a void that had not been filled and I could not figure it out.
This morning, while drinking my coffee, my thoughts raced like the cartoon character, Roadrunner. Then my head cleared and I reached for the phone. After a phone call, I made another call from the information gathered on the first call. The lady on the other end was nothing less than an angel. She called me back in about ten minutes and gave me the information that I needed. Within the hour, I was on my way up US 75. It didn't matter the miles. It didn't matter the gas. There was one thing that I needed to do that I had failed to do after the Dawg's death. I had not accepted the fact that the Dawg was gone because I didn't know where she had been taken. I had to see where she was before I could accept the fact that she was gone. It wasn't final yet and I needed to have that final acceptance knowing the general vicinity of where her remains had been scattered before I could accept that she was, indeed gone and I could finally move on.
It turned out that much as I had expected, a landfill was involved. I could accept that. There is controlled methods even in a waste management facility. Some, I suppose, could not accept that fact, but in reality, it is a much more sane method than most realize.
Before leaving the house, a big old burly man broke down and cried like a baby. I had not done that process either. The people that became involved were all caring, compassionate individuals.Not once, did anyone display anything but compassion and care. They talked to people I could have never reached on my own and when the process was done, even the truck drivers in line at the scale were not displaying any signs of being mad or angry having to wait in line as the line grew because of me. It was as if the universe was working together for a common cause, as it should.
It was a bit more of a drive than I had expected, but a drive that had to be made never-the-less. On the way home, there was a much different emotion than I had experienced earlier in the day. There was no question, being able to accept the fact that the Dawg was gone and I knew where her spirit could be free-spirited, was a comfort that I had not had over the past two weeks. The final step of the grieving process had been completed and the relief it brought was like a fresh wind in the county side. My Dawg was home once again and I could let my heart mend. The pain would grow less over time, although it will never be totally gone. But now, the grief process could begin to finally end. The Dawg is now resting in peace.
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| Do you see the face in the clouds in the left corner? |
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