Of course I mourn the physical loss – the loss of the routines, the snuggles, the care.  I miss the emotional support that he gave to me – the unconditional love. And at times, I have found myself experiencing rage and helplessness.

Demanding or crazy clients, multiple euthanasias, squeezed in appointments and extra shifts all conspired to bring me to my knees a couple of times.  I had a few mini meltdowns last week at work and cried myself to sleep several nights. But last week I also realized that at the root of my emotional turmoil was the feeling of not being in control.

I had been forced into taking Mu’s life, and others, because I couldn’t control their disease. I had no control over staff squeezing in an appointment.  It may have been the right thing to do but I was apoplectic about it. There were several other events that caused me to ask “Why did I have a melt down over that?”

The answer was the realization that I don’t have control over things.  It is a human trait. It is a trait developed over eons to keep us physically safe.  But when our false sense of being in control over mother nature and others’ decisions is rocked, it can create havoc!

That’s what I experienced last week and I suspect it was not unique to me.  I invite you to look at scenarios that have upset you in the past. Really examine them from a higher perspective.  

Was the underlying reason that you got upset the feeling of loss of control?

I was stunned at this discovery as I do not consider myself a control freak. But, in the midst of my grief, with my life turned upside down, there it was. I was doing ok until I couldn’t control something – mother nature, the schedule, others’ decisions.  Then I felt the pounding in my chest, the white noise in my head, the tension building in my body and the overwhelming need to yell, scream or cry.

I was reminded about all the memes I see on social media along the lines of “Let Go and Let God.”  A cornerstone of my belief system is that I am in control of my own thoughts and emotions, and by shaping them I live the life I want to.  But, to have pointed out so viscerally to me last week the level that control played in my outlook on life, was eye opening.

I do not have all of the answers here today.  But what I do know is that last week I learned an important lesson:

The need to control our experiences is a strong force in us.  We believe that if we could just control what happens to us, what others’ do or say, we would be happier.  But we are never in control. Never!

The ability to let go and believe that you can handle anything that comes your way is actually the key to happiness.  

I have many emotions swirling around me over this situation and the predominant emotion changes from hour to hour.  I wanted to explore some of them with you as I know they are not unique to me, but common to all of us who have animals in our lives.

The predominant overarching emotion is FEAR.  

Fear of the future-me not being able to handle the absence.
Fear of the future-me missing the soft fur, the eyes, the purr.
Fear of the pain this loss will create in my heart, my body, my soul.
Fear of judgement of others for how I handled his disease and when I chose to end his life.  

I feel GUILT, as well.

Guilt that I didn’t do everything I “could” have done to keep him here longer.
Guilt that I missed some doses of medications.
Guilt that I waited too long to start treatments.
Guilt that I didn’t do regular monitoring.

I also feel UNWORTHY of his love.  

I know all the things I have done that he can’t possibly know about. That if he did, he would surely not love me.  If he knew the real me, he would not love me the way he does.

I cannot look in his eyes anymore without crying, due to the absolutely crushing weight of emotions that I feel – FEAR. GUILT. UNWORTHINESS.

LOVE.

How can I possibly come home to a house empty of his presence?  How will I fall asleep at night without a good night snuggle with him first?  

How do I admit how much I needed him to listen to my fears and my worries.  He was so strong to listen to all of my emotional dumps on him and not once did he walk away from me in a huff.  Not once did he tell me to get a grip. Not once did he tell me he couldn’t listen to me any more. There were no eye rolls, no huffing, no disengaging.

How do I go through with his euthanasia?  When do I know it is the right time?

If I strip away the fears for just a moment I know it is time now.  I know I am delaying the inevitable hoping that there will be a way of avoiding the emotions I know are coming.

I am delaying because I hope he will just… die in his sleep. Why don’t more of our pets die in their sleep?   

I believe their last gift to us is that they allow us to face all of our fears, with shaking knees and tears, because they know we can handle it and grow.

The only way I know to deal with all of this in a healthy manner is to be brave and wade right into the emotional whirlpool that surrounds death and especially the choice of euthanasia.

I can only feel the depth of loss if I have felt the abundance of love.  

Can I be brave enough to feel the pain in my heart? Really feel it. Allow it to be with me in any way that it needs to be.  Can I find some part of me that realized the pain could not be there if I had not opened myself to the love in the first place?  There could be no pain if there was no love. That is the price of being human.

We love and therefore we grieve.  They are the two endpoints of the pendulum swing.  

Can I allow myself to grieve as much as I allowed myself to love?
Can I grieve harder than I loved, knowing that I also held back some of my love as a protection against this day as well? 

Facing his death, can I admit that I didn’t love him to the fullest because I knew this day would come and I wanted to protect myself.  It didn’t work. Now I hurt for the loss as well as the knowing that I held some love back and now it is too late.

So the only way out I know is to be willing to feel all of these emotions and love myself for them.  They are the indicators that I am human. They are the indicators that I am capable of love and worthy of being loved.  

Some damn black cat came into my life and look what happened.

He loved ME.

He loved the doubts, the insecurities, the lies, the shame, the failures, the me that is messed up and human.  

He loved ME.

He is my teacher, he has confidence in me and I hope to honor his memory with the lessons I learned from him.