A DAY OF OPPOSITES
I want to remember that day in September for its immense beauty, the crisp mountain air, and our Golden Retriever Lucca, wet and happy in the shallow river. But what I remember most is the knot in my stomach, the trust in Lucca’s brown eyes, and the pain in my heart as he took his last breath. It was a day of opposites. Happiness and sadness. Beauty and ugliness. Life and death. It was one of the most emotional days I can remember.
No special treatment
Lucca’s behavior started changing even before we left California. He wasn’t eating and seemed to withdraw from us more and more. I was shaking my head about this stubborn old dog. He probably just missed the kids and his home in California. So, I insisted he’d eat his dry food and not expect any special treatment. We thought that his behavior was a sign of stress, but at some point, we tried anything to make him eat. We even bought whole grilled chicken and fed him the tender white meat by hand. He would eat a bite or two but it seemed to be mostly to please us.
Lucca, a water-loving dog
Total denial
After we arrived in Colorado, a visit to the Vet confirmed that his blood work looked fine. He was more than willing to take a three-mile walk down to the riverbank to roam around in the shallow water. The Vet agreed that he was probably a little stressed out. Besides, older dogs can get a little peculiar. When he refused to drink water, other than from the river, we took him back to the Vet. A scan showed a huge mass on his spleen. I had been in total denial that anything serious could be wrong with him. I just wanted the Vet to give us some advice on how to make him eat and drink again.
There was a high risk that the spleen could burst, and Lucca would bleed to death. The children were devastated when we called and told them. At least Lucca had been there for them the last 10 years while they were still kids, and needed him the most. They were both young adults now, and I was thankful that they were both a little distanced from the situation. Of course, we would all miss him terribly,
One last swim
We took Lucca for a last swim at the river. On the way back, a woman smiled at us and said, “What a beautiful and happy dog”. If only she knew! Allan lifted him in the back of the car, for the last time, to take him to the animal hospital. I thought about how Lucca’s trust in us always seemed boundless. This was no exception, but who gave us the right to decide whether he should live or die, I wondered? Maybe that was the answer. Because of his faith in us. Because he knew how much we loved him, we had to decide what was best for him and give him the peace he deserved. No matter how heartbreaking it was for us.
Loss and EMPTINESS
At the animal hospital, they inserted an IV in Lucca’s front leg. We spent a little time with him before the Vet came back and gave him anesthesia to make him sleep. Then the Pentobarbital to make his heart stop. He was so calm and at peace like he was ready to sleep. And that was it. All these intense emotions the last few days and then just a feeling of complete and utter emptiness.
The little things
Anyone who lost a pet knows that it’s like losing the most faithful family member. In the time after it’s the little things that will get to you. The dog leash hanging useless on its hook in the hallway, and suddenly it seems pointless to go for a walk. The deep-rooted anticipation of someone waiting for you every time you come home. Someone loyally follows you around all over the house when you go from one place to the next, even when you go to the bathroom. Or showing a complete nonjudgmental interest in everything that you do.
A few times after we moved on to Chicago, we got home after dark. I instinctively thought that we forgot to turn the light on for Lucca. It made no sense at all since he had never been in Chicago with us.
Life is amazing. And it’s awful. And then it’s amazing again. And in between the amazing and the awful it’s ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That’s just living heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it’s breathtakingly beautiful.
– lr knost
more than one loss
The loss of Lucca brought up another perspective of our journey that I had tried not to think about. All of a sudden it was painfully apparent that not only was Lucca gone but we didn’t have the kids around anymore either. The loss of Lucca seemed to emphasize that fact. Now we were truly all by ourselves. Allan and me.
I had been so busy being supportive and happy for my kids when they both decided to study in Denmark. So proud of the strong and independent human beings we had raised. I had celebrated their successes. Was beyond excited about their travels as well as ours. Most of all I was relieved that we had all managed to come out whole on the other side of parenthood. Suddenly I realized that I had never truly reflected on the fact that when our children leave for college we experience a loss and that it is acceptable to mourn that loss.
Mourning doesn’t make you weak
Somehow, I thought I could just leave the heartbreak behind when we started our journey. That was clearly a mistake. All I could think about for a while was how much I would have loved to experience these moments with the kids. Even their constant fighting and bickering, their moping when I wanted to take their picture, and always putting their needs before my own. Sometimes I felt so sad, that part of our lives had come to an end. The loss of Lucca made me realize that I had to allow myself to feel sad because of my children, and accept that every emotion is valid and necessary and that it didn’t make me weak.
Read more about our midlife journey
How to Avoid a Midlife Avalanche
How to Turn a Midlife Crisis Into a Midlife Opportunity
Read more about our adventures in Colorado
Anne Sommer
❤️