Rosie,
We put up our Christmas tree last night, 11/17. It's been hard feeling cheerful or excited like I usually am around this time of year. We pulled the decorations out and your stocking was right on top of the box. The thing is bigger than you are. And I just realized I typed are instead of were. It's so hard to believe. But the coldest hardest truth was hanging your ornament on the tree. An ornament we didn't have last Christmas. Last Christmas we had you, romping around with your sister and growling at her and begging us to pick you up. This year we don't have that...only the ceramic ornament we received from the vet. Your tiny pawprints pressed forever into the clay and painted pink. Mommy and daddy both cried last night when we hung it up. We put it near the top, right in front. So pretty and special, but not as pretty and special as you. We hurt so badly missing you. No longer am I excited for Christmas...it hurts too much to even think of taking a Xmas card photo of just Luma again, no Rosie. That's why I can't participate in the YT card exchange this year. I dread each milestone and holiday because I know I'll be missing you and it hurts.
It's almost your birthday. Luma will be three years old on Jan. 3 and you would be turning 2 on Jan 13. I'm sorry you died young. I feel like the ultimate failure. While Part of me knows you were born with illnesses I couldn't possibly prevent I still feel like I let you down by not knowing about them until it was too late. It still upsets me and I try to analyze every detail of how your bloodwork could be perfect at your one year check up and you died four months later. I still feel, some days, like I made a terrible God awful mistake putting you to sleep. You might still be here today. Everyone told me there was barely any chance of improvement, even with all the money in the world, but that's hard to believe when I was so ready to do anything possible to help you live...I was willing to surrender you to rescue because I so badly believed you could make it...but no one else did. I fight with wondering if I let the vets and others make the decision for me. I wanted to try anything. They told me very truthfully that you would suffer further, be away from your family, have many tests, all for it to not help at all. You were so far down the hill and it was terrifying to see you like that. I have nightmares about that night at the ER vet and the next day when you passed. It hurts too much to type any more for now. I do try my best not to wallow but seeing your pawprints in hardened clay is the coldest reality. It's just too much. I hate this. |