Per my post yesterday, today is the first part of my desperate attempt to try and figure how to do all of this without Piggy. As the week progresses, my plan and hope is to get all of the yuck out of my heart and mind early on so I can start to focus on the glory days and Pig's memory. But just as my small group from church goes every week, in order to share your highs, you must be willing to share your lows. And so with that, at the risk of being too transparent, I must try and get out of the bad and the ugly.
My purpose in this post is not to give these feelings life, but to get them down and out of my head. This blog, so many years ago, began as a way to deal with my battle with depression. A wise counselor suggested many years ago that I begin writing to take the swirl of negative thoughts from my head to paper and then to the trash. But because I'm not really a journal'er, I chose to go the blog route out of necessity and almost a mental survival technique at the time. Today's post falls in line with necessity and mental survival.
Over the last twelve years, I have envisioned how last Thursday would go. I knew in my heart of hearts that when the time came to make any hard decisions, I would choose to be humane, loving and present. PRESENT. I knew that no matter how painful, I would be there to hold my Pig as he left us. He would not go alone. He has never once allowed me to be alone in his presence and that would be my final thank you to him. We would be together. I knew everything I would say and I knew I would hold and kiss and comfort. I would give him permission to finally put himself first while I was the one to show unconditional love to him.
I did not get that chance. Not having that chance is what seems to be king of my heart right now. I cannot shake it. I cannot pray through it or ignore it. And I don't want it to grow and fester, so this is my attempt at taking it from mind to "paper" to trash.
Although there is no such thing as the pretty side of grief, I do believe there are million sides of healthy grief. The evil side of grief, however, is guilt. Guilt is a very real and tangible thing. It is not just an emotion, it's an ailment and has biological consequences such as actual pain and panic.
Not being there for my Pig has taken this moment, his ending, and taken it from "thank you's" to "I'm sorry's". I have loved this boy with every ounce of my heart. I have given him whatever I could to make his life cozy, loving and all that he deserves. And yet, when I think about him, all I can think is "I'm sorry." And I hate that. I've never hated those two words more in my life. Never. Those were not words I rehearsed a million times over the last 12 years as I prepared for this day. My words were full of thanks, gratitude, love, respect, compassion. Not I'm sorry. It never even crossed my mind. Not it crosses it roughly 100 times a day.
Piggy, I truly am sorry. I'm sorry I didn't know you were so sick. I'm sorry that all of the signs made me think you were simply struggling with not being an only child anymore and were mere old age behavior and decline. I'm sorry I didn't rush you in the night before because I feared they'd make you sleep there alone and you'd be scared and afraid and away from home when I thought you'd rest better with me. I'm sorry I thought we had time. I'm sorry your brother screamed all night while you were failing on the inside. I'm sorry for all the times that I got caught up in caring for Nash and only kissed you once that night instead of the 25 kisses you were used to. I'm sorry that I didn't ask to wait in the lobby while they treated you in the back. I'm so sorry I thought we had time. I should've never ran to buy Kleenex. I should've stayed, even if I couldn't sit with you. I should've sat there and waited. Damn it, why didn't I stay and wait?! I'm sorry that I could only hold your back paw the last time I saw you before they had me leave and await your update. I'm sorry that you started going on your own and I hit every blasted red light once I got the call to come back. I'm so sorry that I missed your departure by 3 minutes. Three freaking minutes. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you went alone. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to hold you and thank you repeatedly. I'm so very sorry. And I'm so sorry that you went in the front door of the hospital and they brought you out of the back door as we waited in the parking lot. I should've demanded that you come out of the front door. The door you came in. You deserved a front door departure just like every other animal. I'm just so sorry, sweet boy. I hate this. I want you back. I want you here with me. For even just 5 more minutes so that I could turn my I'm sorry's to the thank you's you so rightfully deserve. You deserved it all. You were "it all" and more. I love you. I'm sorry.