April 12, 2022
It’s very late…sometime after 1:00 am. I can’t sleep. Duncan and Barclay are tucked into bed, and the house is very still, dark, and quiet. We’ve only been apart for a few hours, but I can’t yet let go, although I know I already did. I always knew it would happen quickly, and I would have to make a very difficult decision in a very short span of time. But, when I brought you home, as I have done with all of you babies, I made you a promise that first night, at only eight weeks old, that when it was time, however many years later, we would decide together, and I would be there holding you until the end. It’s the last great act of love I could have shown any of you, and fortunately, it’s a promise I’ve been able to keep with you, Missy, JJ, and little Fritz. The last thing I wanted you to feel was my touch, and to hear was my voice, soothing you just as I did in the car on our way home for the first time when you were a baby.
The strangest thoughts run through my mind; I’m glad I gave you a haircut yesterday, because you had gotten a little scraggly, so I’m glad you were tidy. I’m glad we had one last turn around your garden this afternoon. You loved wandering around your garden. Some of the flowers have started to grow back from last year…the lilies, delphinium…the magnolia tree is budding, and the peach tree, too. I was hoping you would have seen another colorful spring in your garden in full bloom. I already packed away your little bottles of pills, your water dish…it was too difficult seeing them. It’s also too difficult not having your little stroller pulled up close to the bed where you could reach up and nudge my arm when you were ready to get up in the morning. It took some coaxing to get Duncan and Barclay to eat tonight; Barclay, in particular, is clearly upset and he kept going to your basket, rummaging around in the blankets, hoping to find you under them. Your chair with Lambie on it, untouched since you lost the ability to jump up onto your favorite perch a few years ago. Lambie will remain there; he was your cuddle toy, and belongs only to you.
Bradley, I feel so guilty. I feel guilty for making the decision to let you go, and as I have done with all of you babies, will wonder for years after if I made the right decision at the time; should I have helped you fight more, and hang in longer? It’s completely against my nature to ever run away from a fight or admit defeat unless absolutely forced to, but tonight, I felt that after such a rapid decline so suddenly, the quality of your life was forever compromised, and I couldn’t subject you to more medications or treatments just for the sake of keeping you here with me for however much longer, as that would have been selfish on my part. I’m guilty because I feel relieved…relieved that after the last four years of worrying over you every time you got sick, if that was your time to go…and then you would bounce back and we would regroup and keep fighting. As long as you were willing to fight, I was. And we did a great job. And you were so brave. The doctor said several months ago that you have a lot of spirit. She was so right; you never complained, just trusted me to do what was best, just as you trusted me tonight. But I still can’t help feeling unforgivingly guilty, just the same. I feel like I somehow ended up failing to protect you in the end. I feel guilty for having to leave you for so many hours at a time years ago when things were really bad and I had to work two jobs to keep the house so we had a home. I feel guilty that it took me more years than I had wanted to finally fulfill my promise to get Duncan for you so you were not alone during the day when I was at the office…and then I felt guilty because you resented his presence when I was hoping you would welcome it. I felt as if I let you down, like you felt you were being replaced. You soon realized you were still number one to me, but I still feel guilty.
One thing I don’t feel guilty about is that I know I spent as much time with
you these last few years as I could, because I wanted to make sure you knew how
loved you were. And I miss things. I miss your curious mischievousness. I miss you jumping up on the furniture and
knocking all the pillows onto the floor.
I miss you snoozing on the sofa downstairs when I was in the gym. I miss the way you would jump up and down at
the door when I took you outside. I miss the warm spring Sunday fun days in the
yard with you in your playpen, enjoying the breeze and fresh air while I washed
cars. I will miss putting your sweaters
on you when you were cold, carrying you up and down the stairs these last few
years, when you were unable to do it yourself, our early morning routines of
pills and breakfast, you snoozing in your stroller while I got ready for
work. I’ll miss buying your favorite
cherry vanilla ice cream to surprise you…SO many things. Most of all, I will miss the look you would
give me…that look of absolute love and adoration for no reason at all. I never felt that I was worthy of it, but
when you would look at me the way you did, it made me feel ten feet tall. You, and all you babies, have always been my
reason for getting up in the morning, for working hard, because you needed me,
and I needed you even more. Life has
been very lonely for many years, and I came to peace with that long ago, and
what made it bearable was knowing I had all of you for love and companionship. Even though I knew I was lacking certain
kinds of love, your love was enough to make me feel good enough to still feel
fulfilled. It's unconditional love,
which is the best kind to have, and the hardest to find.
I knew you were winding down. I’ve known it for a few months, now. I wasn’t blind to it, but tried to turn a blind eye anyway. The thought of losing you was too hard to bear, but the thought of keeping you beyond your own happiness was worse. Of course, I know you would have held on as long as possible, had I insisted on prolonging the inevitable. I truly believe the reason you held on so long is because you didn’t want to leave me; you would have endured pain and suffering just to make me happy, but that would not have been truly living, for either of us.
I had better get back upstairs so Duncan and Barclay don’t feel alone. They understand, but they don’t. I was thinking of taking them for ice cream tomorrow, but my heart won’t be in the trip, because my heart is still with you. As I said, I’ve let you go, but I’m not yet ready to let go. I need time and solitude and quiet to process things. Life will move on, but it will never be the same again. Please forgive me for letting you go and saying goodbye. Find Fritz and JJ and Missy so you’re not lonely. Find a patch of sunshine to curl up in and sleep, and please wait patiently for me to come home to you again one day, just like you always did. Even with the comfort of Duncan and Barclay here with me now, I am so indescribably, horrendously lonely, because I feel as if I no longer have the strength I had when you would look at me, knowing you needed me so much. I was your world, and you were mine…my little baby sunshine…
