Tag Archives: Lexie

Dec 3 – How to Live When a Loved One Dies

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https://www.parallax.org/authors/thich-nhat-hanh/

“Our loved ones are in us and we are in them. When a loved one dies, a part of us also dies.” p.2

“We are in the habit of identifying ourselves with our bodies. The idea that we are this body is deeply entrenched in us. But your loved one is not just their body; they are much more than that …. The idea that “This body is me and I am this body” is a belief we must let go of. If we do not, we will suffer a great deal. We are life, and life is far vaster than this body, this concept, this mind …. We are not limited to our physical body, even when we are alive. We inter-are with our ancestors, our descendants, and the whole of the cosmos. We do not have a separate self; we are interconnected with all of life, and we, and everything, are always in transformation.” p.100-101

I miss Lexie.

I’m grateful for the reminders Thich Nhat Hanh offers us.

May we all have a peaceful weekend.

Dec 1 – Some Days Are Stone

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Lexie

After fourteen years together, I delivered our beautiful cat, Lexie, to veterinary specialists for a throat scope early this morning. In a few short weeks she had gone from a social, vocal and loving feline companion to a hoarse, weak, barely eating cat choosing to hide from the family.

An x-ray late last week and a CT-scan earlier this week, revealed a mass in her throat. Veterinary specialists advised a throat scope but forewarned us Lexie might not survive the procedure. They told us a throat scope could tell us more about the mass and any possible treatment options.

We were mentally prepared for the worst but still hoped for any good news. Sadly, we were not fully prepared emotionally to hear the final diagnosis and recommendation. The throat scope revealed Lexie had cancer and it had progressed beyond any recommended treatment. They could revive her for a final goodbye, but euthanasia appeared to be the most compassionate next step.

My wife and I returned to say our goodbyes. We petted and hugged her. We apologized for not knowing how to help her earlier than we had. We thanked her for our fourteen years together. We asked her to wait for us at Rainbow Bridge. We told her we would miss her terribly and would place her cremains on our memorial bookcase with other loved ones from our “furever” family.

My wife held Lexie as our beloved feline received two injections into her IV. She was gone almost instantly. See https://www.vet.cornell.edu/departments-centers-and-institutes/cornell-feline-health-center/health-information/feline-health-topics/euthanasia-what-expect-and-what-questions-ask-first

Love is hard, grief is hard, and some days are very hard.