As with my previous In Memoriam for Simon, this is also a dedication to all of my children, and others, over the years, feline and canine (and human), over a couple of dozen, over almost 60 years.
I can, did, would, and would have said the same and similar things about all of them, no doubt more to follow, if I am so lucky.

With eternal love and gratitude.

#RIP

Ave Atque Vale
~

Death Is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

— Henry Scott-Holland

• Good Grief

An Ocean of Tears, is not enough.

When you lose a loved one, at first it is an unimaginable, unbelievable, unbearable, Hellish nightmare, that seems like it will never end.

But you deal with it, and get over it, in time, because you have no other choice.

For me, it is usually about a week or so.

Although the indescribable pain of profound loss, sorrow, and grief is mostly mental and emotional, with some physical aspects, if it was truly a physical injury, you would call an ambulance to be taken to the emergency room and admitted to the hospital.

But you know it’s more than that, and something you have to accept and work through yourself, inevitably on your own. No one else can really help.

Perhaps fortunately, grief is exhausting. And cannot be maintained for too long, especially at egregious levels, especially if you want to keep your sanity. And so it all begins to ease up, and slowly lessen in severity.

And then you smile, and then laugh for the first time since they left, and feel like you have betrayed their memory. But it is simply part of the process. And if there is such a thing, they understand.

Then numbness and sadness step in to take over for a time. For me, it is about another week.

During that time, anger rears its head, at the Universe, at whomever is In Charge, and a bad mood engulfs your life, perhaps laced with some depression. The normal kind of depression one would expect in such a situation. The grief and sorrow are still there, but becoming distant memories, and faded shadows of their horrific past that seems like so much longer than just a week ago.

At some point, you can think about the lost one, and speak their name, and briefly mention them or talk about them with only tears trying to come to your misty eyes.

Another week or so.

After a month, or thereabouts, you can think about them, and the good times, and talk about them, and the hurt is lessened to the point of coping management. The loss is now something that seems both far away and still too near. But that all gets better over more time.

Three months. Then six months. Then a year.

You shouldn’t wallow in it all. That is not healthy.

And if you believe in such things, you have to say your final goodbye, and let them go, so they are not kept earthbound by your attachment.

The first time is always the hardest. Later, when it’s not your first rodeo, it doesn’t really get easier, but you know what to expect, and that seems to help some.

What seems to be worse is when it is your last companion / child. I’ve experienced this more than once. When you don’t have anyone to go home to, to commiserate with, to hug and hold and spend time with, to ease the burden. When simple things like dumping out their water bowl for the last time is so heartbreaking it’s almost unbearable. Or donating what is left of their food to a shelter. And packing away the things of their Life to be discarded someday when it is possible to do so.

Eventually you get to a point where, when you think of them and speak their name and talk about them, there is no real grief, or sorrow, with some lingering loss and sadness that is bearable. But you can smile, as well, and even laugh, at the memories that will always be with you, and in a way, allow them to live forever.

Simon’s memorial page. (Black’s brother from another mother)

A Special Thank You to all of the Veterinary Clinics & Hospitals and Doctors, Vet Techs, and Staff who helped with Mr Black’s Health Issues over the years, but especially in Chico, Dr. Dan Moore of Forest Animal Hospital and Dr. Barry Dohner of Animal Medical Clinic / VCA Valley Oak Veterinary Center, and those who helped with all of my companion animals over the years.

To learn more about the wonderful treatment “MMS”/Chlorine Dioxide, a Natural “Home Remedy”, that kept Mr Black healthier the last several years of his life, check out the informational website linked to below. ClO2 is a “medicinal” treatment (Super-Detox) with unparalleled efficacy (even compared to most modern medicines and the like) for human and non-human animals for most diseases and illnesses, even those that are egregious and/or “incurable”. More information about Black’s treatment can be found on the My Story page.

A Spoonful of Medicine