How do you love without worrying?
When we had to let Sweet Pea go to the Bridge, I was devastated. I loved her so deeply, I thought part of my heart had stopped working altogether. I lost my grandparents, with whom I was very close, and I still miss them every day. My uncle–a man who was an integral part of my life despite living three hours away–passed in a sudden type of manner…I still wonder what he would think of something that has happened in my daily life. I don’t think I really grasped what loss was like before these lives were gone. I suspect part of my anxiety is fed by the potential for loss now.
**I worry about my elderly aunt, who is still in the hospital and still struggling daily. I worry about my dad and how he has aged over his sister’s illness. I worry about my mom, because I think she does too much and doesn’t practice good self-care. I worry about my siblings. I constantly worry about my husband. I worry about Le Moo.
Le Moo is not acting right these days. We can’t pinpoint what it is, because she is doing the routine things…eating, drinking, sleeping, peeing, pooping, chasing treats. She is not coughing or sneezing or limping or vomiting or anything physically out of the ordinary. But she is not acting right. The last time this happened, it was SP and we chalked it up to aging. We were wrong and we lost our precious girl to a fatal disease. So I am now constantly worrying about Le Moo. I’m watching her wherever she goes, and analyzing the things she is or is not doing. I have infected this worry to my hub, who is normally the one who reassures me that there is nothing wrong, that I am seeing things that are not there. With him worrying, too, my anxiety levels are up. I’m not sure how I would make it through losing Le Moo. I know she won’t be here forever, but my stomach is all burbly and unhappy with the thought of Le Moo being sick and us not finding out in time. Of course, logically I know there was nothing we could do for SP even if we had known sooner, but I cannot help how I feel. And of course I cannot control if she is sick (or not), or whether or not she can be helped even if she is sick.
We’ve had Le Moo for eighteen months now. Because of my grief over SP, I have not really been able to tell Le Moo those three words we all want to hear from those who care about us. It is a mental block that I am aware of every single day…almost every time I hug her or talk to her. I try to show her how I feel, but I have not been able to say it. I know it is a misconception in my head that by not saying it I will protect myself from the grief of loss–whenever that time may come–but my brain simply tells me “does not compute.”
I try to hold onto the hope that Le Moo is just feeling “off” or that she was frightened by something outside and thus is acting oddly. But the grasp is tenuous. And my strength is waning.
**as you know from the previous post, my aunt has passed already. this post is “out of order” because of the scheduling vs real life thing.