BarefootinBoston

It is no secret. I am incredibly afraid to die. Many nights I lay in bed, thinking that one day I will no longer be alive, and I get sick to my stomach. My heart starts racing, death being the only thing I can think about. I rationalize that this fear is due to such awful experiences with death. When is death an ok experience you may ask? Of course the answer is never. But, the people who I have known to go to the unknown world, each one’s passing was strange in its own way. My step-dad died when I was 15, my grandfather died, but I had to read about it in the paper, my step-dad’s parents both died, naturally, but once my step-dad died, we didn’t have contact with them much and it was a really odd relationship. A’s uncle died of cancer at a young age.

Needless to say I believe I do have an unhealthy fear of death, I suppose you could say I have panic attacks when I think of it. Now that I have E, there’s a whole new level to this.

As I was trying to fall asleep last night, I was thinking about how I’ve had this sore throat for weeks, convincing myself that it was some form of cancer (as A can vouch for me, I believe I have every possible form of cancer-I wouldn’t say I’m a hypochondriac, only in the sense of cancer), I thought about not seeing E grow up. This depresses me greatly. This is now one of my biggest fears.

Although E can be a challenge, I love waking up to his cooing every morning, knowing that I will see his smiling face, and that he is smiling at me because I am me. Even thinking about not seeing him grow up saddens me greatly. I cannot imagine not seeing his first step, his first birthday, his first day of school, his report cards, all of those things and more. I want so badly to live, not so that I can enjoy life, but so that I can enjoy seeing E live (of course I do want to enjoy life, but that seems to be 2nd in line).

In two days, it will be 4 weeks since Jack was put down.  As the days pass, I feel myself remembering him in happier terms rather than being sad every time I think of him.  I thought that I was healing and moving forward.  I think I have fallen back many steps.

I realized today again, for the millionth time, that I will  never see Jack again.  His pictures, ashes, little traces that he’s left behind (smudged windows on the french doors from his nose) are all that I have left of him.  I cannot even begin to imagine not seeing him again.  It hasn’t become a reality yet and I am not sure that it ever will.

There are still times during the day where I think he’s still here.  Last night we had one of A’s co workers over for dinner.  As he was leaving, I was thinking about A having to walk Jack when I realized that he was gone.  These things still happen daily.  Admittedly less frequent then before, but just as painful.

We went to the vets and got Jack’s ashes two weeks ago.  I also thought this could bring some closure.  It’s nice to have him back and know where he is, but having him here is also very difficult.  We plan on burying him at my mother’s house, but the ground is frozen and covered in snow up there, so we have to wait.  While we’re waiting, Jack’s ashes sit on a bookshelf in our living room, looking out the window and watching over us.  Everytime I look at the box, I am filled with sadness.  Everytime.

I guess I underestimated how important he was to me.  He was essentially my baby while we had him, up until E was born.  Every minute I was home, he was by my side, only leaving it to go lay in his bed when I was spending too much time washing the dishes.  He insisted upon being right next to me, or A, all of the time.  When we first adopted Jack, we let him sleep in our bed.  He started out by our feet and then moved himself up towards our heads.  It was then that we decided that he would sleep in his own bed.  But he just wanted to be near us.  We would put him in his bed and he would keep jumping up into our bed, over and over.  He was extremely persistent and stubborn, much like E I suppose.   I do think he was preparing us for our little guy and am thankful to Jack for that.

I just wish I didn’t miss him so much every day.

since my amazing little pooch left this planet. I really like to think he’s hanging out with Liza (my dog I grew up with) somewhere, but then I realize I sound like a crazy lady. A always says I am crazy (but a good kind of crazy) and I don’t think this falls into the good kind of crazy.

I could never have thought I’d miss him this much. My house is incredibly quiet and we have so much less responsibilities, but I feel a huge void where Jack previously was. Time heals all wounds, yea yea yea I’m not sure that this wound will be healed all too quickly. BUT I must say I am able to look at pictures of the J-Man with more happiness that I used to, which is huge.

But I just miss him so much…