In August of this year, my best friend was hit by a car and killed. Bijoux was eight human years old (56 dog years). She was a 25 pound corgi/sheltie mix with the most amazing personality -- the perfect mix of playful and calm, cute and smart. We shared a profound connection. I loved her more than anything on this earth. That's quite a statement, but it's true.
In these past few months, I have been amazed by the number of people who absolutely get the relationship that those of us who are animal lovers have with our pets. I've also been amazed by how many people really don't get it. One person said to me, "keep it in perspective, Susan, it's just a dog."
You may be wondering why I am writing about this and how this is pertinent to what I normally write about -- marriage & divorce.
What has been astounding to me is how many people have told me that they had a harder time when their dog died that when they split up with their spouse. One woman told me she thought something was seriously wrong with her because she wept uncontrollably when she had to sell her horse and shed nary a tear when her husband moved out.
How is it that we can have a much stronger connection with an animal? A being with whom we can't converse or share our worries with?
The answer is simple and obvious: because we receive unconditional love from our dogs, cats, birds and bunnies, we feel unconditional love for them. When we allow something to love us and dedicate their lives to us, it brings out the faithful and open-hearted parts of us. We bond around our mutual love -- even when nothing can be spoken (perhaps because nothing can be spoken!)
It is because of Bijoux that I met my husband. It is because of Bijoux that my heart was open every day; that I sang to her every day; that I got to smile at all her cute quirky traits. Bijoux brought tremendous light and love into our lives. Her absence leaves a profound hole.
Losing someone or something that you love hurts terribly but what I do know is that, while I won't ever forget Bijoux, the pain will lessen and life will find a sense of normalcy again.
I have had to practice what I preach to all the divorcing clients I work with -- to be with the grief. To feel the feelings, as uncomfortable as they may be until they pass. To manage the emotions, rather than try to control them (and make them go away).
It's not easy to do that when the emotions are rooted in intense pain. Friday was particularly bad. Today is better. I don't know what tomorrow will bring but I am committed to grieving for as long as I need to. I'm committed to being around people who understand my pain and who will support me where I am (and who don't try to make me stop feeling what I need to feel).
I often tell people that grief has a life of its own. It's done when it's done -- not when I want it to be done.
I'm still a believer in the saying, "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," but it definitely hurts when the loss comes.
Follow Susan Pease Gadoua on Twitter: www.twitter.com/spgadoua
Eric Simpson: Blessed Are Those Who Mourn: A Christian Understanding Of Grief
Remembering the intelligence, dignity, and goodness,
You carried yourself with an air of confidence,
No person was an enemy or a stranger,
Always willing to shake your paw,
Make a friend,
Always willing to keep me company,
Being there in my gloomiest of days,
Brightening them with your big head on my lap,
Pawing me until you got my attention,
Then helping me reach happiness once again,
Patience with me like no other,
Oh I miss you so, Romeo.
Dear Romeo, friend of mine,
Son like no other,
I will join you one day,
And we will play and play,
Football, fetch, or going on long walks,
Once again becoming a duo,
Separated no longer,
I look forward to once again be with you,
Love you always,
Romeo, my Rom-Dawg, my Rome,
Names I loving you called you,
And you always came.
Romeo
Remembering You,
Rest in Peace,
Mi Amigo,
Remember...All Dogs Do Go To Heaven
Remembering the day I brought you home,
Before I met you,
I had named you,
The lady said you were the last of the litter,
Because you tended to "kiss" everyone,
"Ahh, I stated, "A real Romeo"
The name stuck, with time.
You were so cute and cuddly,
Loving everyone you met.
Remembering the days we played and played,
Endless days of football and running,
Never leaving my side,
Always on alert for a game or a walk,
Days of training until you became
The great receiver catching the over shoulder pass,
Finally after days and days,
Always trying to time it just right,
Then you did it;
You knew you did it,
Returning with that big grin and wagging tail.
Your article was extremely timely; we had just lost our American Staffordshire Terrier,LUCKY, who was with us for thirteen years. I still look for her everywhere. Evenings I begin to look for her foods in preparation for her meal, and I realize she is no longer with us. It has been painstakingly difficult for my wife and me. Two relations sent cards; others have contacted my wife by email. Neighbors have offered sympathy and help. But I cannot get past the relatives who are ignoring the situation; as if Lucky never existed, or something.
That he was beautiful; that his soul was gentle---that he was unassuming. That he never craved excessive attention like his older brothers, Boy, the Border Collie and Imp, another Irish. In the house, he was still and clear as water. Outdoors, he ran beyond borders, long ears flying behind him, coat streaming, galloping after seabirds or through woods, running like the devil, but always remembering to keep me in sight, or to come when called.
My ex, who loved him too, always joked he was thick as a plank, because he wasn't manipulative and full of personality like our other dogs. He was boring that way I suppose---perhaps because, you see, he did everything he was told. He never talked back. He was always under the radar in many ways. While others raved about Boy's agility prowess, or Imp's dances, he was quietly collecting his blue ribbons on the show circuit.
You can't forget a dog like this, who still retained that sweet puppy smell well into adulthood, and still peed squatting as if he were 2 months old.
In his last week, the cancer heavy in his mouth, I walked him under a gray sky under a vast field where seagulls had unpeeled ghostly feathers drifting silently on dead grass and leaden breeze.
Elfie, I know that despite some tough years, you were the one who understood.
Much love.
I just read your article on the Huffington Post website on the pain of losing a pet. I completely understand and identify with your feelings.
I just lost my beautiful Aussie Cattle dog, Roxie, a couple of weeks ago to cancer. I had to make the final, and heartbreaking decision for her own well-being but my own despair. I have never felt such raw grief. I loved her more than anything or anyone and I can't describe in words how much I miss her.
In reading that you had felt the same at the loss of Bijoux after a very special relationship with her, as I did with Roxie, that I wasn't alone in the depth of my grief for what some people consider to be "just a dog".
Anyway, I just wanted you to know that your article was just what I needed to read at a time like this.
thank you!
Sara Soldevila
Penn Valley, CA
We're even more sad for your wife, Glenn.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Author unknown...
Contrast that with my relationship split a few years ago. When he left, I was relieved. When he came back and got our Great Dane (she had been his dog), I cried for days. I adored her. The idea of unconditional love in a human relationship is bunk and wouldn't be desirable anyway. However, with animals, it is very real and I have been surprised at myself by the level of grief I have experienced losing animals. I accept it, though, and am sympathetic to it in other people. When I meet someone who isn't, I must assume they have never had the pure love of an animal before...