MaxsMom2
I looked through Maxs you basket today. He enjoyed getting the squeaker out of them immediately then just dragging them around. It was so difficult looking at them. Each one holds its own memories, it’s own own place in time. My heart was overwhelmed with loss. The loss of my baby. Feeling his toys, holding them. For a split second it felt like I had my baby back. But reality set in. And I simply can’t accept this loss. I read dozens of posts here of people who have come to accept the transition to the rainbow bridge. I don’t seem to be able to picture that bridge or light or him running happy and free and without illness. All I can see is him, begging for me to take him home and me begging to bring him home. I wish I could see or feel the rainbow. But it’s not in sight and that scares me. 
Laraine Esposito 
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Memories_of_Marmalade


Dear Laraine,

I do not think that the "Rainbow Bridge", or "Heaven", or an "afterlife" is anything that we humans can actually imagine. It is beyond our comprehension. Our minds are simply not evolved enough to imagine another plane of existence. It is most likely another dimension. But I know what I have experienced firsthand, that proved to me that there is something else. Things that even my business partners ( who were not really religious per say) have observed in my company. Consistent signs.

We live in an infinite, mysterious, miraculous Universe. Where anything is possible. The love that you and Max shared, that your two paths crossed is miraculous in it's own right. 

I think Shakespeare put it best:

There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy - Hamlet (1.5. 167-8) 

So please do not give up hope. And look for small signs. God is on the gentle breeze. He is not an old, long haired man sitting on a marble throne. He is in the leaves. He is in the sun. He is in love. And warmth. And laughter. And joy. He is subtle. And true. As your love for your Max was true.

That is where you will find Max's spirit. In your heart and in your loving memories of him. At least until you are reunited in another form.

Kind regards,
James







 
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Timbersmom
Dear Laraine,
     I feel exactly the same as you! I also have a difficult time thinking of my Timber playing and running at Rainbow Bridge. I also imagine him wanting me to get him and bring him home. You see when he was alive he didn't get along with other animals. He was an alaskan malamute and was never socialized as a puppy. So basically all other animals he saw as prey. So I sit here and worry that he is lonely and sad and that he is all by himself. Timber was the family dog. I have a husband and three kids, but for all intense purposes he was my dog. He always waited for mommy and twice we went on vacation without him and when we came home, what a greeting I got. He jumped and ran all over. He couldn't contain his excitement to see us but especially me. I know I was his favorite because I did everything for him. I would get up at 4 in the morning just to walk him while no other dogs were out. It was quiet time for both of us. We would walk for 1 to 2 hours.  Now I can't even get out of bed. I see him everywhere and when he left I know he took a piece of my heart that will never make it whole again. He is gone 5 weeks now and I still cry multiple times a day for him. I feel like the rest of my family has moved on. My husband goes to work, he is an essential worker, and my oldest daughter works part time at a grocery store while she is in college. My younger two kids are 14 and 12 and they go about their day as usual. I feel all alone in my grief because I have no-one to talk to. Everyone keeps telling me Timber is still with me but I'm not really accepting that. They expect me to go back to being my usual self. I sit and watch tv all day and cry. I have to take unison with Tylenol pm. to go to sleep. I haven't been out of the house since Timber passed. I just sit in sadness and tears all day long. I don't think I will ever get over this. My husbands answer is to get another dog. I don't want that. I don't think it is fair to Timber. Also I don't think I will ever be able to love another dog as much as I loved my Timber. Also, I only had Timber for 3 1/2 years. I think that is what is making it harder for me to accept that he is gone. One day he was perfectly fine. Walking, eating and playing as usual. Then within less than 72 hours we had to put him to sleep. I still relive those last days and wonder if we had done things differently would he still be with us. You see it turns out his large intestine twisted. We don't know how it happened and even the vet can't tell us exactly how it happened. All I know is my boy was perfectly healthy one minute and gone the next. I miss him so much that the pain is overwhelming at times. So you see I can completely empathize and sympathize with you and how you are feeling. I wish you the best of luck in trying to cope with your loss and I truly hope you can find peace. 
Sincerely, Timber's mom Michelle
Michelle Santora
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MaxsMom2
Timbers Mom, 
Everything you said is exactly what I’m going through as well. Max was Practically attached at my hip. I couldn’t fold laundry, do dishes, go grocery shopping, use the bathroom without him there, my shadow. Max was 13+1/2. He started vomiting and going diarrhea, 3 days later he’s having surgery for what was thought to be an obstruction. It wasn’t, the Dr. called after an hour of surgery, she said his intestines were riddled with scar tissue, she said even if she could remove most of it, that it would reform quickly, that it would cause septic shock or a proliferation of his bowels. Taking him home for palliative care wasn’t an option. I begged to bring him back, hold him, sing to him, feed him. I just wanted his last days to be at home. He is my son. I just want my son back. I haven’t been crying every day. It’s certain moments, I’ll see a sunset or the birds chirping, all I can think of is that it’s not natural, not fair that he’s not here to enjoy it. He had chronic IBS, I think that’s why I had a false sense of security. I was used to his occasional irregularities or stomach upset. When the xrays were studied by a radiologist we were assured he swallowed something and it was a blockage. The assumption the previous night and morning was that it would be removed, then he would come home to us. Nothing was as we were told. He swallowed a small bone several years ago, had surgery and recovered fine after 10 days. I assumed so many things, I never truly felt he could leave me, or be taken from me. Nobody believed he was 13. He ran, and played and ate and lived like he was a pup. He slowed down somewhat but dogs half his age couldn’t always keep up with him. He only weighed 15lbs, but he could easily drag a person down with his strength. My husband hasn’t allowed himself to fully grieve, allI want to do is talk about Max, tell stories, not let him go. But hearing it is to painful for him. I’m angry, because I can’t understand how he can just shut his emotions off, when I’m still in a deep depression over Max. I don’t feel I have the support and understanding for losing my son. This forum helps a great deal, but having people physically in my life to support me through my depression and crying is something I am desperate for. Thankyou for responding. Hearing someone else say that they feel alone and isolated from the trauma of loosing their baby is important for me. It makes me feel a little less alone. 
Laraine Esposito 
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EmmasMama
Oh Laraine - Your post rings so true to me. I lost my Emma on the 31st and I feel like my life is shattered. I posted her story, our story, in a separate post on here a couple of days ago. Like Max, Emma never seemed to be "old" for her age - she was full of life and everyone was always so surprised when I would tell them how old she was (she was almost 15). And just like Max, things went downhill quickly and unexpectedly, leaving me sitting here wondering how the hell did we end up here? How could this happen? How do I go on without her? She belongs here, with me! I keep trying to picture her in heaven, happy and in the prime of her life, but I can't...all I picture is darkness, sadness, emptiness. All I see is the urn with her ashes on the mantle and I think to myself "How can my baby be reduced to a pile of ashes?" And then I cry all over again. My husband holds his grief in and continues to go on, business as usual. How is his world not turned upside down like mine? I don't doubt his love for her, and I know he's having to be strong for me so that I can grieve, but we just aren't on the same page. He wants to crack jokes to diffuse the sadness, as he's always done in every situation, but I'm in no mood for jokes. It won't work this time. This time, the sadness is deeper and more real than anything I have ever felt, and no amount of jokes or funny memories is going to make it go away. This forum has helped me tremendously. I like knowing I'm not alone and, often, there are many people in the exact same state of mind as me. But I agree, there's no substitute for someone physically present who understands and supports you.

I truly hope that you start to feel less alone and that the days start to get a little easier as time goes on. 

Lindsey, Emma's mom.
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MaxsMom2
Lindsey, thank you so much for the reply. Yours is the first post that felt exactly what my experience has been. I’ve been posting a lot about Max. I repeat the story again and again because I can’t believe it. Not of it seems real. Not of it is right. I’m struggling to picture this beautiful sublime afterlife because it means I don’t have my baby here with me. I don’t know how people are to comes to terms with it, I suppose they just learn to live with it. The crying before was from day to night on an hourly basis. Now, it comes out of no where, I walked on a trail today with my niece and her dog. I didn’t want to leave the house but I did because she has been feeling depressed. As we walked down the path, I saw the beautiful river and trees. I just began to cry. I couldn’t stop crying. I looked at the beauty of the trail, I couldn’t believe I had never took him there. The guilt took over. I was in disbelief, that I would never get to walk him there. I hated myself, I can’t stop thinking of that majestic special place, that Max will never see that place. 
Laraine Esposito 
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Quincysmomma
I relate to all of your stories about the losses of your babies.  It has been over 12 weeks for me since we had to say goodbye to my Quincy and I still cry every day...some days more than others, but still every day.  Learning to go on without him is proving very difficult and I've found some days I just don't care anymore...don't care about the trivial things in life that need to be done, don't care what happens to me, don't care what the future holds.  I've read multiple books on pet grief, posted here periodically and have even been doing therapy for the last 6 weeks.  Sometimes, the books help a bit even though I cry all the way through reading them.  Some days therapy helps trying to get me to focus on 'to do' lists for the day and that sort of thing, but also in realizing that I am going to miss Quincy forever...this grief is not ever going to have a 'finish date'...there is no finishing grief.  Seems obvious, but somehow realizing that I will miss him forever has comforted me a bit because early on I felt like there was a grief 'to do' list that I was supposed to mark off.  

I also relate to how your husbands are handling the loss because my husband is also keeping it all in.  There will be moments where I can tell something hits him, but otherwise he is not sharing his thoughts unless I specifically ask...he is not a talk about feelings guy so it makes him uncomfortable. It does make you feel alone in your grief, though, and I've realized that is how grief is...it is a very lonely endeavor because everyone handles it differently.  I am trying to just let myself go about it in my own time frame, cry when I need to cry, talk to him when I need to talk him, sing him the songs I used to make up for him.  I've also been keeping a journal to Quincy starting about 4 weeks after we had to say goodbye where I tell him how much I miss him, mention a happy memory or just talk about how the day was...I have enjoyed having that outlet because sometimes I feel like if I don't say out loud how sad I still am and how much I am still struggling that 'people' think I am fine and I am most definitely not fine.  Having my thoughts written down seems to help a bit with validating how sad I still am.

I wish you (and all of us struggling) days filled with happy memories of our loves and maybe less tears as time moves forward...
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Cocobear
I relate to all of your stories about the losses of your babies.  It has been over 12 weeks for me since we had to say goodbye to my Quincy and I still cry every day...some days more than others, but still every day.  Learning to go on without him is proving very difficult and I've found some days I just don't care anymore...don't care about the trivial things in life that need to be done, don't care what happens to me, don't care what the future holds.  I've read multiple books on pet grief, posted here periodically and have even been doing therapy for the last 6 weeks.  Sometimes, the books help a bit even though I cry all the way through reading them.  Some days therapy helps trying to get me to focus on 'to do' lists for the day and that sort of thing, but also in realizing that I am going to miss Quincy forever...this grief is not ever going to have a 'finish date'...there is no finishing grief.  Seems obvious, but somehow realizing that I will miss him forever has comforted me a bit because early on I felt like there was a grief 'to do' list that I was supposed to mark off.  

I also relate to how your husbands are handling the loss because my husband is also keeping it all in.  There will be moments where I can tell something hits him, but otherwise he is not sharing his thoughts unless I specifically ask...he is not a talk about feelings guy so it makes him uncomfortable. It does make you feel alone in your grief, though, and I've realized that is how grief is...it is a very lonely endeavor because everyone handles it differently.  I am trying to just let myself go about it in my own time frame, cry when I need to cry, talk to him when I need to talk him, sing him the songs I used to make up for him.  I've also been keeping a journal to Quincy starting about 4 weeks after we had to say goodbye where I tell him how much I miss him, mention a happy memory or just talk about how the day was...I have enjoyed having that outlet because sometimes I feel like if I don't say out loud how sad I still am and how much I am still struggling that 'people' think I am fine and I am most definitely not fine.  Having my thoughts written down seems to help a bit with validating how sad I still am.

I wish you (and all of us struggling) days filled with happy memories of our loves and maybe less tears as time moves forward...


Thank you so much for what you've shared. I completely relate to all the feelings you've expressed. I lost Coco ten days ago. I look for my little boy everywhere expecting him to poke his little nose through every slightly shut door. Just can't or don't want to wrap my brain around the fact that he's really gone. I'm so reluctant to find a new normal or move any of his things. I also searched for a grief checklist but you're so right, there is no finish date.  This is my new reality. Forever missing my little bear Coco. 
My husband has his own dog that he's had many years before we met and I had my Coco. He doesn't share my despair. And people do conclude that things are ok unless I'm crying or telling them how I feel. I guess it's easier for people to assume that. You said it perfectly, grief is a lonely endeavor. 
I think that writing in a journal each day to our babies is a beautiful idea. I'm definitely going to try it. Thank you for that advice. 
It is obvious how deeply you loved and cherished Quincy. He was so fortunate to have you as his mom. I wish you strength and send love. And may your memories of your sweet boy begin to bring you more smiles than tears.
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