As I sit to write today, my heart is so heavy in my chest I can hardly breath. Yesterday, I lost my best friend in furry pajamas. Whitman had been struggling with kidney failure, and over the past few weeks it was getting the best of him. I decided I couldn't watch him loose any more weight or get any sicker. Our vet is really great and he made the experience a little easier.
I already miss the warmth of his little body nestled in the small of my back as I sit at the computer. He wasn't there this morning to watch me do my hair or put on my make-up. I didn't have to shew him off the bed to make it, or fill his water bowl. His sunny spot on the carpet sits empty. I have a headache from crying so much and I feel void of any creativity or enthusiasm.
One of my friends said she will never have pets because the pain is to hard to go through when they die. All I can say is that it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. I would never give up the memories I have just to save myself from sadness. Whitman was my surrogate child when I couldn't get pregnant. He relished my attention and purred like a motor boat.
So, although I wish I could walk past his sunny spot without crying or go an hour without second guessing my decision, I feel that this grief is good. The depth of my sorrow is only a measure of the joy he brought into my life.