A week ago, I received gut-wrenching news that changed my life. I wished for the better. A week ago, I cried my heart out and whispered, “Goodbye Remy”, before I lost the best friend I’ve ever known.
Things are very raw right now. I’m still sobbing every time I see a photo of him. I don’t want to talk about all the granular details. But after another vet visit and an emergency trip to Philadelphia for an ultrasound, we finally determined what was ailing Remy over the last month: Hemangiosarcoma. It’s a type of very serious, very aggressive malignant tumor that impacts blood vessels.
I knew on Monday that I had to let my boy go. The vets were very clear that his spleen and liver were at the point of no return. He was bleeding in the lining of his organs. The tumors could burst at any time, causing more bleeding. There was nothing they could do. There was nothing I could do.
I’ve never felt so lost and helpless.
Remy is 7.5 years-old. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that this happened to a Golden so young. Even knowing that it happens – that it’s common, even – in Goldens, I can’t understand. Because Remy is too good, too pure, to selfless… I can’t even bring myself to finish this thought. Because even while he refused to eat his food; even while I knew he was suffering, Remy wouldn’t show it. He kept wagging his tail, greeting people with kisses, and singing songs as if nothing was amiss.
My Heart Hurts
I try not to show negative emotions and I tend to bottle them up. But I crumbled as Remy slipped away from me. And I crumble every time I remember that moment. It was the right decision for him – I couldn’t let him suffer. Everyone agreed, so I know it was for the best. But my heart hurts so much that it feels like it’s going to implode. I raised Remy from 8wks old, and I’m not having children. He is my oldest child.
Maybe that’s what makes this all so hard.
Quincy isn’t even 2 yet, and I don’t think he fully realizes that his brother isn’t coming back. My father stayed with him while I went with Remy, and Quincy apparently started howling (something Remy taught him), the exact moment that Remy passed. I don’t know what to do for him when he realizes that it’s just us and Oliver now. And I keep reaching out to stroke Remy’s head, or calling out his name by accident. It hurts, it’s painful.
I learned a lot about life, love, family, acceptance, and patience from Remy. He was with me through some of the most important times of my life, and got me through the rough patches with a smile and a wag. I know no one else will ever be able to replace him, and it seems like (or feels like) I lost part of my heart when he left.
People have been amazing, reaching out to check on me and make sure things are okay. I can’t describe how much it means to me to have such incredible people in my life. It’s important – I have a tendency to isolate myself in these moments of sadness, so I would like to say to all of my wonderful friends and family:
Thank you. Please be patient with me. I might not be as loud or boisterous as normal; I might decline a few invites at first. But don’t give up on me, please, and don’t let me wallow. I’m crushed, but the only way I’ll get through this is with all of your love, support, and friendship.
Quincy, Oliver and I are keeping busy. I’m finally getting the house in order – maybe out of a profound sense of guilt that I couldn’t give Remy the house he deserved. Quincy and I go on walks, he’s come with me to stores, and he helped me make some crafts to remember Remy by. And we’ve been watching a ton of movies and shows, so I’m just going to bury myself in blogging.
I love you, Remy. You’ll be in my heart everyday. Thank you for lighting up my life.