Missing you always

It always hits you. Again and again it hits you, the sense of loss.

You do things--wake up, fix the trash, come home--and remember how it used to be when she was there, your baby, your baby.

How terribly empty life has been since she died, how terribly ugly it has been.

Every day is a reminder of what you've lost and what will never be again.

The desolation is immense, seemingly endless.

There is no mercy in surviving.

"Say Goodbye": A poem for Vixen, of Vixen, seven months after her death

How do you say goodbye? When do you do so?

Do you say it when your love is buried,

unable to hear, cremated, or earlier, too weak,

maybe too delirious to hear?

Perhaps you say it when you know death is real: it is inevitable,

and goodbye must be said—if only to unhearing ears,

as sight and hearing and understanding are gone.

Will your love understand your touch,

the pain throbbing through your fingers and the unseen tears?

Will your love comfort you when your love knows only pain?

How do you say goodbye?

How can you?

Life suddenly is nothing, meaning only life is gone

or will be, when your own hearing and seeing and your breath are gone.

How do you say goodbye

to your love who is to die?

How do you say it when goodbye offers you no comfort,

just the realization:

your life, your love, is dead.

###

Boobie, June 18, 1991-July 21, 2005; Remembering my baby, born 21 years ago today

My dearest Boobie.

You made life beautiful. And when life wasn't beautiful, you made it bearable.

When life brought sorrow, which was often, you put in a pinch of joy.

You are missed, always.

My lovely, lovely Boobie.

Almond, December 16, 1994-June 2, 2007: Remembering my baby, now five years gone

It's been a sad day from the start. Five years ago, also on a Saturday, I lost my baby, my Comebaby, my Almond, my Mondy, my Alimondmond.

Five years to the day. I weep as I write this.

I saw you die, one twist and you were gone. I thought you were just stretching, but then you were gone. You were sick for about two weeks, red discharge coming out of your vagina. That last day, you ran out and vomitted, you wouldn't eat. You had lumps all over, said the vet. Then you were gone, just like that.

My baby, how could I have survived all these years without you? I guess I had Vixen for consolation, a reason t live, to smile, to laugh. Now even Vixen is gone.

I miss you so much, my Comebaby, and the tears keep coming.

Oh how I wish I were with you again, if only in death. No need for an afterlife, just to be with you in nonexistence, gone together, as we were in life together.

My dearest Almond, my dearest Comebaby. Why am I not with you in the bliss of death?

A tribute

A tribute to my babies. Were it only possible for you to have lived forever.

That lingering sense of loss

The sense of loss is everywhere.

I feel it everyday, from the moment I wake up. I start down the stairs expecting to hear Vixen's footsteps, to see her welcoming me. I do repairs and I look to where she used to sleep; I keep taking care not to disturb her, but she's no longer there. I do some hammering, expecting her to bark, or to run where I am and to look on. There is always that expectation of her being there--and always that painful realization she is not. I leave the dried urine outside alone; the sun and rain will eventually dry and wash the smell away.


For years, everything I did at home and away was with thought of my babies, of Boobie, Almond, and Vixen. These past four years everything revolved around Vixen. This overbearing emptiness continues. I keep looking for her, watching for her, listening for her, waiting for her, as if somehow she'll be there.

What do I do without my dearest baby?

The days have no meaning now.

Vixen, September 1, 1998-December 20, 2011

My Vixen is gone. My Babes, my Sen-sen, all those loving names I called her.

She was with me for more than thirteen years, literally from the moment she was born, the only female in Boobie and Almond's second litter. I had to put her to sleep today, December 20, 2011. A cancer was taking her body; there were lumps on her liver, her lungs, her ribs. She could hardly walk. All her life I took care to make her happy, protecting her always, making sure she would never suffer. I had to let her go before the pain became too great.

She had been sick since the end of October. I feared the end was coming, but I held back my tears and held on to hope till yesterday, when it became clear she had to go, for her sake.

I don't know how many times I've cried or how hard. What does it matter?

My baby, my Vixen, my Babes, my Sen-sen, my Vickisensen is gone.

There is an emptiness inside that is almost unbearable. It hasn't even been a day, but weeks seems to have passed. It takes forever for a simple hour to pass. Time moves so slowly. I have lived too long.

With Vixen's passing, an era ends. Boobie came to me in 1991, Almond in 1995, Vixen in 1998. Boobie died in 2005, Almond in 2007, Vixen in 2011. My babies are gone. For the first time since 1991, I am in a house without babies.

Goodbye, my Sen-sen, my lovely. Thank you for for all the years of joy and comfort that you gave me.

Time moves so slowly, and life is dark now. Yes, I have lived too long.

In memoriam, Boobie, June 18, 1991-July 21, 2005, lovingly remembered and terribly missed on the anniversary of his death

It was hard to believe:
holding you that last day,
the breath gone from you,
everything about you still.
I knew it was coming;
the decision was mine to make.
By my nod, you went quietly, painlessly finally.
After fourteen years, you were no longer of this world.
I held you for the last time, and wept the loss...
as I do still,
as I stop to remember,
always to remember,
the good years, the wonderful years when I had you,
consigned to memory now,
in a world so suddenly different,
so suddenly changed,
so suddenly cold.

In memoriam, Boobie, June 18, 1991-July 21, 2005, lovingly remembered and terribly missed on the anniversary of his birth

My dearest,
You nibbled on my button
and healed a broken heart.
You looked at me from behind her legs,
and I fell in love with you.
You were home.
I loved you every day you were with me.
You are gone now but always remembered.
And the love,
it remains.

Prudence, April 2, 1999-January 13, 2006. Lovingly remembered on the anniversary of her birth.

You brought so much joy to us.
How changed the world has been without you.

In memoriam, Prudence April 2, 1999-January 13, 2006, on the anniversary of her death.

You were our jewel.
Now so terribly missed.

In memoriam, Almond Dec. 16, 1994-June 2, 2007, on the anniversary of her birth

One of my brightest lights is gone.
My world is darker now.