Thursday, April 16, 2015

The heaviness of afterwards

D and I, with the help of a caring vet, helped Shanks pass this morning.  I felt his last breath; it was quick and peaceful.  I am sad and relieved and all sorts of other contradictory feelings.

The basement door is open, and I keep thinking I need to shut it so Shanks doesn't come up.  I keep thinking that a chunk of my and D's marriage is now different.  I associate getting the cats with the start of our life together.

Last night, we told the kids, which was a mix of all kinds of contradictory reactions.

As soon as I said "Shanks," N began crying.  Full-on ugly cry that bordered on ridiculous.  High drama.  I struggle with high drama.

G and M were in a fit of stupid until we went downstairs to visit with Shanks for a bit, at which point G understood the weight of what we were saying.  M danced around, jumped on the trampoline and when I said he wouldn't see Shanks again after Thursday, he said, "Ok" (in the same way he would if I asked him if he wanted some chips).

I anticipated that G would extrapolate outwards, and he did at bedtime.
"Why aren't you crying?  Don't you care?"
"Who will be my mom when you die?"
"Will I ever see you again when you die?"

This morning was much the same.

I am emotionally exhausted both from being a part of Shanks' passing and from trying to guide the kids through their own grief processes.  I know we did the best, most merciful thing.  It was time.  I think often, probably too often, about how I will face death when it comes, at least if I am sick or grow old.

I am bathing in the heaviness of afterwards.  

No comments: