One Week… Feels Like Yesterday

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It’s the one week anniversary since we lost our Betty and I found myself wanting to cry all day… I waited until I got home, safe with my husband and able to talk about anything I needed to with the only one who truly understands and misses our Little Love just as much as I do…

I asked Si to wake me up before the alarm (if he was up) just so I didn’t have to hear it go off. In the shower, I thought of that morning one week ago and how I reached down into her house and she rolled over for a belly rub. All the trust and love in her little soul beaming back up at me as I captured that moment forever with four pictures. I could draw each one by memory now; I have looked at them so often.

I thought about the day and how I was going to avoid the clock and knowing what time it was, but it was am impossible task. When my co-worker arrived about 8:30am that was about when we had said our last goodbye, gave our last kisses and saw her happy little face as she went with the vet tech and we walked out into the storm. Then about 9:00am my other co-worker arrived and that was about when we had gotten home… and sat and waited, clock watching all that morning until the phone rang early, just before noon and instead of the vet tech it was the doctor giving us the news… “Sara, I’m sorry. I have bad news.” Something to that effect. I only had to hear his voice and not the girl’s to know she was gone. He didn’t even have to say the words. I was already hanging up and looking to my husband in a state of pure panic. He too was a sudden wreck but he’s my rock and he held us both together as we rushed out of the house, back into the storm which was now one of pure, uncontrollable grief and panic.

I just remember saying over and over again… I’m coming Bubby Girl… Mom’s coming… It was a desperate plea spoken aloud, a prayer that I’d get there and she’d come back to me. I called my mom, sobbing as I told her the news and hanging up mid-sentence as Si got in the car and started to drive back to the vets. The storm was raging even more as he drove, both inside the car and outside too. He pulled into the parking lot and I was already opening the door before he could even stop, rushing inside and seeing one girl standing there, the look on her face was crushing as I frantically looked around and asked where Betty was… Si was suddenly there, by my side as was were taken down the short hallway to the very last room.

The doctor stepped out, his face one of practiced reserve as he started talking about what happened as I rushed into the room. It was darkened, one small light was on. Betty was on an exam table against the wall, a crimson red towel beneath her and a fluffy blanket with I think dogs and cats on it was wrapped around her. She looked like she was just sleeping, as if this was some awful joke especially when I touched her and she was still warm. I looked to Si and said as much as I started to kiss her and whisper to her, hoping beyond all hope that she’d hear me and come back.

Again, today I could feel the desperate panic rise up inside me as I sat silent at my desk reliving that moment like a waking nightmare. I remember hearing bits and pieces of whatever the doctor was saying to Si, but my sole focus was on my Bubby Girl, trying to let her know we were there and that I loved her with all my heart. I didn’t stop talking to her, whispering in her big sticky-uppy ear and looking into her softly veiled eye. I’ll remember that look always… as if she was just there, just beneath the surface watching and listening to me. Again the ache as I wondered and asked the powers that be why wasn’t my love enough for us both and strong enough to make her live? Miracles happen… they do. You hear about them all the time… I was praying for a miracle for my Bubby Girl. I never prayed so much in those fleeting, frantic moments.

I asked if I could hold her, as if I needed that permission, like I was afraid to hurt her. I remember the doctor looking a bit worried, he said something about how she could slip out from the blanket because she was so little and limp… He didn’t know I was probably the very best person, aside from my husband, to hold my Bubby Girl… She was like that when she was sleeping too, all floppy and warm, barely moving and completely trusting that she’d be cared for, not a worry in the world as we used to pick her up before taking her to bed… never in a million years would I have dropped her.

I cradled her against my chest, her little face on my shoulder as I sat down and kissed and held her. Never stopping my whispers to her… endless words of love wrapping her little soul tight as she left us. I’m sitting here in tears all over again. I can’t believe it’s been a week… I can’t believe she’s gone. My throat is tight and my vision is blurry again blinking back salty tears and still wondering why this happened? Endless questions that we’ll never have the answer for… all we know, all I know is that my Bubby Girl is gone just as fast as she got here.

Now I say good night to the little, locked cherry box with her ashes, kissing my fingertips and touching the cool wood. I touch and caress her toys that I have all stashed together on the shelf in the office. Her little pink collar with her pink tag that says BETTY now worn by her favorite squeaky pink bear. All of her favorite baby toys crammed together and kept away from the ruffty-tuffty love Fred would give them.

Pictures and pink toys, tiny pink collars and fluffy pink beds, a little locked cherry box with her ashes and our memories are all that I now have… I miss you my Bubby Girl and I’ll love you forever.

I had my Betty… there is no other. 

Be in peace our Little Love…
You are missed and thought of every day.

Love always, your Mom…


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