The day after

The day after the worst day of my life, Jon got up and went to work, and I woke up much earlier than usual around 8 a.m., which was depressing because it just gave me more time to think about it all before having to go to work around 3 p.m. I cried, then fell back asleep for a while. Then I woke up and repeated the process until I had to get ready to go to work. 

When I finally got up, I went downstairs to let Bella outside to go potty. The whole house felt dark and empty. I felt like I didn't live here. When I opened the sliding glass door to let Bella outside, I saw the spot where she died and I collapsed sobbing. Bella sniffed around the yard for a while before going to the bathroom, which she usually doesn't do. And when she sniffed the spot where Molly had been laying, my heart ached for her. I wanted so bad to be able to console Bella and explain to her what was going on, but I knew she wouldn't understand. I don't know if she realizes what happened to Molly, but she knows that her little friend is gone, and she knew for those first few days afterward that Jon and I were very sad. If we didn't have Bella, I don't know how I would have gotten through all of this.

Compared to the day before, Tuesday was much easier to get through because I at least had the distraction of work, but it was still incredibly hard. Being at work helped me control my emotions, but Molly definitely crept into my thoughts every now and then. I just threw myself into whatever I was doing as deeply as I could, trying to stay as busy as possible to distract myself. But I could feel the grief sitting like a lump in my stomach, and my chest still felt tight and heavy. I had to make a few trips to the bathroom just to collect myself and release some of the emotion that was churning inside me.

The second I was alone in my car and driving home, it all came crashing down again, and there was nothing left to distract me. That night and the next night I cried the whole drive home, asking God why he had taken her from me and telling him that I was angry with him for doing so. I kept saying it wasn't fair, that there are awful people who torture and neglect pets who live to endure the abuse for years, and yet Jon and I couldn't even have our angel Molly for a month. My drive home took me by the park where we had just taken her with Bella two days ago to go for a walk and some swimming in the pond. It was her first time swimming and she just loved running around with Bella. The whole walk, from our house to the pond and back, all flashed through my mind at once, and my heart just broke. I could picture every minute and remember how happy she was, and it just made me miss her more.

The last few days have gone by very slowly. Every day gets a little bit easier, which helps me get through it all. I don't cry nearly as much now, but my heart is still heavy and empty. It feels like a hollow shell of cold steel in my chest. Most of the time I feel like I'm walking underwater, and colors and tastes seem bland and unexciting. Things like sunshine and blue sky actually make me feel worse, knowing that Molly will never get to enjoy those things again, and that I will never get to enjoy them with her. I try to give Bella as much love as I can, but there's just not much to give yet. I think she understands. She hasn't asked to play very much and hasn't been eating much either.

I miss Molly tremendously, and sometimes it just doesn't seem real. Sometimes my mind tricks me, just for a second, that she's still here. Then I remember that day and her lifeless body, and all the pain floods back in.

The guilt has subsided a bit, though the results of the necropsy are pending and could potentially intensify the guilt, depending on what really caused her death. I just know that if anything that I remotely had control over caused her death, I will hate myself. I know that I loved her, and I keep reminding myself that we didn't do anything differently with her than we did with Bella, and Bella turned out great. But she was just so young and dependent on us that I can't help but feel responsible in some way.

I've lost pets before, but most of them were old and it made sense. It felt like they had truly lived and that it was just their time. But Molly was taken so suddenly and so soon that I just don't know how to accept it or deal with it. I know now, at least, that the pain and grief will get better with time, but I don't know if my heart will ever not hurt when I think about her.