When I was in high school my first dog died. We had owned her, Glory, since I was nine and
our family went through an experience during that grieving period that I won’t
ever forget. My dad was working out of
town that night when my Mom came into my room at 2am and woke me up. “Jenny, I think Glory is dying and I want you
to say good-bye to her now just in case”.
She looked worried and considering Glory’s age (13) I didn’t want to
risk her being right. I jumped groggily
out of bed and rushed to my parent’s bedroom in our home in Ruston and there was our old, decrepit, well
loved dog Glory. She was lying on her
side panting in shallow breaths and whimpering slightly. When she saw my Mom and I enter she was
noticeably comforted and wouldn’t let us leave her side for about an hour. I watched as death crept its way up her body-
her bottom half became stiff and cold with rigamortis, but her top half still
breathed and labored as her lungs filled with fluid. She had survived several strokes over the
past year and we knew that this was her time.
After a while Mom continued to stay up with her and I tried to get some
sleep vowing to wake early and check on her.
At an early, 6am I woke up and tip toed into my parents bedroom where my
mom was asleep and saw the dog on the floor.
When I reached down to pet her I could tell immediately that she was
dead. This was my first first-hand
experience with death. But somehow when
it’s someone you really love, death has a different appearance then at other
times. I said my quite good-byes and
then went out to phone my dad to ask what to do. Of course cell phone reception being what it
is he didn’t answer, and I left a whispered message. I then woke up Mom and Julie to tell them the
news. What I didn’t count on was how
differently everyone in my family would grieve.
I felt so full of helplessness that I just had to “do” something. I needed to tell people, arrange the funeral,
dig the hole, whatever would help take away all the frustration. Julie just sobbed on her bed and wouldn’t
even come look at the body to say her good-byes until it was covered and ready
to be put in the ground. She later told
me she wanted to remember our pet alive and happy. Mom, in particular, surprised me greatly. She needed to grieve loudly and hold the
carcass and rock Glory and just cry and cry.
She wanted to look death in the face and experience every last emotion
to be finished with it. With the help of
a friend we dug a hole large enough (she was a 55lb dog) and buried her with a
small funeral. Later that evening my Dad
returned to go up on the hill by himself to spend a few moments saying good-bye
himself. It took us a few years as a
family to get used to not having a pet around and quit talking about her all
the time and what she used to do, but that one day of observing my family’s
grieving patterns stuck with me.
As you can tell, our last blog post was about a year
ago. No, we’re not purposeful slackers,
I’ve actually intended to write many times, but never knew how to articulate
what was really going on in our lives. A
few months into our marriage my, Jennifer’s, parents began having very serious
marriage problems which have continued to worsen over the months. Francois and I being the closest relatives
around we have been left to deal with the day to day refereeing and emotional
care of both of them. This isn’t a job
that has been easy on us, especially as newlyweds, and although I am not
resentful of this gift of being able to give my time and heart to our hurting
family, it’s been so draining that we’ve barely had time to keep the chores
done every day. However, this has been
so similar to the grieving process of watching our beloved dog die, that I
thought it might help our friends and family understand in a small way what
each of us are feeling. Whether or not
my parents find healing in the future and reconcile or continue on to divorce,
the marriage that we all knew and were comfortable and secure with has
died. So Francois and I might not get
the chance to write or phone a lot in the next few months, but it doesn’t mean
that we don’t love and care for each and every one of you. Please keep us in
your prayers and take us out for a break every once in a while. ;) We’re
all grieving and hurting right now.
“Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need." Hebrews 4:16
Love,
Jennifer
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