Letting Go
May. 20th, 2002 10:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vervain13It is shortly after ten p.m. this Monday night as I write this...and I am weary, sad, and drained after the week's/day's events. Today, a very special chapter ended in our lives.
After several communications back and forth with the hospital, Don finally called me late this morning to inform me that Jasper, our sweet feline companion, was terminally beyond repair. Upon hearing the tears in his voice, I asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital to which he immediately replied, "Absolutely." We met at a local subway station and transferred there to a train that would take us to the destination which we both anticipated and dreaded. We rode mostly in silence, agonizing over the loss we were about to experience, even though we knew it to be for the best. At the hospital, the doctor greeted us after a brief waiting period and ushered us into the room where we would bid Jasper one last farewell. Moments later, when she brought him in, she briefed us on what to expect and then left us alone with him so we could express our love to him as he made this transition to the other side. With tears of gratitude we reached out to him, stroking him and letting him know that we love him and wish him well, that we are so grateful for all the joy he has brought us. In response, he began purring that deep throaty kind of purr...something he hadn't done since this whole thing began almost a week ago. Moments later, the doctor returned asking if we were okay going ahead. We assured her that we were ready, so she gently gave Jasper the necessary injections and we continued to show him affection as he quietly slipped away...purring all the way to the end. The moment was so gentle, yet so intense...we embraced and bawled as the doctor graciously left the three of us together for a last brief time. Afterward, as we walked in the fresh air and sunshine, we discussed memorial preparations as we headed back into Boston for a brief, subdued lunch, then visited a nearby flower vendor on our way home, doing our best to reconcile ourselves to the fact that we weren't bringing Jasper home. Upon arriving home, we quietly went about clearing and preparing an altar in his memory, including the fresh flowers, photos, and mementos that we felt would best honor him. When we were through, we stepped back and took it all in, only to be overcome again with grief. Especially difficult was the removal of the now extra food and water bowl stationed next to Winston's, yet we felt it best to deal with it right away rather than draw things out unnecessarily. Forgive me if this is all so damn repetetive, but this time is difficult at best. Throughout the evening, friends and family have called to express their condolences...some of them having pets of their own. So far, Winston seems to be taking Jasper's abscence quite well, but then we are giving him extra attention in the hope that it will ease him and us through this adjustment period. What offers us comfort at this point is that Jasper is no longer in pain, that he is free and no longer suffering. We are extremely grateful for how happy he was at the end and how peacefully he went. We couldn't have hoped for better. We will miss him dearly while at the same time we will move forward with our lives, knowing that it's all for the best.
After several communications back and forth with the hospital, Don finally called me late this morning to inform me that Jasper, our sweet feline companion, was terminally beyond repair. Upon hearing the tears in his voice, I asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital to which he immediately replied, "Absolutely." We met at a local subway station and transferred there to a train that would take us to the destination which we both anticipated and dreaded. We rode mostly in silence, agonizing over the loss we were about to experience, even though we knew it to be for the best. At the hospital, the doctor greeted us after a brief waiting period and ushered us into the room where we would bid Jasper one last farewell. Moments later, when she brought him in, she briefed us on what to expect and then left us alone with him so we could express our love to him as he made this transition to the other side. With tears of gratitude we reached out to him, stroking him and letting him know that we love him and wish him well, that we are so grateful for all the joy he has brought us. In response, he began purring that deep throaty kind of purr...something he hadn't done since this whole thing began almost a week ago. Moments later, the doctor returned asking if we were okay going ahead. We assured her that we were ready, so she gently gave Jasper the necessary injections and we continued to show him affection as he quietly slipped away...purring all the way to the end. The moment was so gentle, yet so intense...we embraced and bawled as the doctor graciously left the three of us together for a last brief time. Afterward, as we walked in the fresh air and sunshine, we discussed memorial preparations as we headed back into Boston for a brief, subdued lunch, then visited a nearby flower vendor on our way home, doing our best to reconcile ourselves to the fact that we weren't bringing Jasper home. Upon arriving home, we quietly went about clearing and preparing an altar in his memory, including the fresh flowers, photos, and mementos that we felt would best honor him. When we were through, we stepped back and took it all in, only to be overcome again with grief. Especially difficult was the removal of the now extra food and water bowl stationed next to Winston's, yet we felt it best to deal with it right away rather than draw things out unnecessarily. Forgive me if this is all so damn repetetive, but this time is difficult at best. Throughout the evening, friends and family have called to express their condolences...some of them having pets of their own. So far, Winston seems to be taking Jasper's abscence quite well, but then we are giving him extra attention in the hope that it will ease him and us through this adjustment period. What offers us comfort at this point is that Jasper is no longer in pain, that he is free and no longer suffering. We are extremely grateful for how happy he was at the end and how peacefully he went. We couldn't have hoped for better. We will miss him dearly while at the same time we will move forward with our lives, knowing that it's all for the best.
