Here I am three years after your passing and still it seems like yesterday. Tomorrow is your birthday, you would’ve been 15. Now is the time I should be worrying about you leaving me, not when you were 4 months shy of your 12th birthday.
I’ve tried not thinking about you, but that doesn’t working. I think about you 24/7, 365 (366). I caught myself crying at work yesterday. When I realized I was crying, I stopped what I was doing and wiped my face. I heard my 2nd momma say, ‘pull up your big girl panties and get over it’. It’s not the best mantra, but one to snap me out of the tears.
A friend of mine re-posted a post by Cora Neumann on Facebook yesterday, https://medium.com/@coraneumann/no-one-tells-you-this-lesson-from-loss-3b2bf0a6941d#.nhec2wpr1. I think it’s a wonderful post and everyone who’s suffering a loss of life of any kind (or is watching someone grieve), should understand it’s ok to let us grieve and mourn. You just need to remind us not to ‘die with the dead’.
I know my friend, nor Cora, intended for this post to seen by anyone in particular, but it has touched me in such a profound manner. I also know you were a Chihuahua and not human; however, you were my very best friend. We were spiritually|emotionally bound to each other from the moment I put you in that little box to take you home. You were a 1 lb 2 oz, full of piss and vinegar, Chihuahua. The box swallowed you! I had to dump you out of the box to show you to my siblings. You ran straight to me, barking at my brother and sister because they tried to pet you. It was over. I knew I’d give my life for you, but you never asked. You never asked for much of anything. I made sure you had the best of everything. I just didn’t see your death coming. If I would’ve, I would’ve hocked my life to have your valve replaced.
I miss you so badly. I don’t have anyone to tell my deepest thoughts to. I have no one to just talk to. I have no one to cry with. I knew you wouldn’t/couldn’t tell on me, and you used to let me snot all over you and then let out a sigh of relief when I was finished. You knew when I was hurting emotionally, spiritually and physically, and you made sure you stayed on me for comfort. I have no one to do that now. The ladies in your pack, they don’t love me the way you loved me.
Our family always ‘gets on to me’ for still crying for you. The day I stop crying for you, is the day I take my last breath on this Earth. And most nights I pray for Jesus to come get me, I get so tired of fighting for a place in this rat race called life – without you.
I love you. I still need you. And ask Jesus every morning|night to give you a kiss right between your ears – your fur was so soft there.
Nope, I’ll never stop missing you, nor crying for you until we are reunited again.
One day Samson, one day we’ll be reunited and all of Heaven will be ours to explore together!
Mommy loves you. Please tell me how to make the tears stop, please!
Hugs and belly rubs!