As I am driving to an appointment, I hear on the radio an interview with Brené Brown regarding her new book, Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms The Way We Live, Love and Lead. I listen with great interest, amazed that what she is proposing is exactly what I need to hear at that very moment. As she explains, one of the ways by which many people deal with pain and fear in life is by catastrophizing when experiencing joy. She gives the example of a parent gazing at her sleeping child and thinking of how much she loves this child followed by all sorts of daunting thoughts of all the terrible things that could happened to the child. In other words, killing the joy by not staying connected to the love she feels at that moment for her child.
Laika has been diagnosed with gastric carcinoma. Stomach cancer is one of the rarest cancers in dogs and also one of the most aggressive. When I heard the diagnosis, my heart plummeted so low that I felt I would never be able to recover. Why Laika? Why us? Why now? And once again I am learning life lessons as a result of my relationships with dogs - as a result for my deep love for Laika. I am forced to learn how to be vulnerable by not killing joy. Her future is dire. Only a few weeks to live.
John also reminded me that she is here and alive now feeling happy and engaging in things she likes, and for me to enjoy whatever time we have with her. I struggled for days feeling sorry for her and feeling sorry for us. Laying awake at night thinking of all sorts of scenarios about how her end will be. I realize too how my mother’s recent death has taught me a great deal on how to live with Laika’s inevitable passing.
When my mom was alive, I got to see her once or twice a year. We were very close and talked weekly over the phone. This arrangement is a consequence of living abroad - it's a painful reminder that it is impossible to have all our loved ones with us all at once!
Life is about making choices and living with the consequences of those choices. After her death, her absence has become my constant companion. My mom is now ALWAYS with me. Every day. Everywhere. The physical distance of time past is now irrelevant. I feel more cared and accompanied today that I did when I was able to actually be with her only a few weeks a year. Getting to this point was, of course, a process. A valiant process of being present with my loss, my grief, and choosing to live my life. This being exactly what I know my mother would have wanted me to do. I know that once the pain of losing Laika has diminished, Laika too will be with me always, everyday, everywhere.
In life either you choose to engage in relationships or you don’t. It's that simple, I think. When one chooses to have dogs as companions, we cannot move away from the pain that their sickness, suffering and one day their death will bring. The choice is ours to make: love and learn to be vulnerable or lose out on one of the most loving relationships of all.
As we face this really sour step, I keep reminding myself that I must be the adult in this relationship. That I owe it to Laika to pay attention (as my veterinarian suggested) when I ask her how would I know when it is time to let her go… Pay attention she told me.
What great advice…pay attention! Laika does not need my pity, my tears of my forceful embrace. She needs for me to be strong – unselfish so that I can let her go when her quality of life is lacking.
Her life and now her soon-to-be-death reminded me that we really have no idea what the future brings. It is just an illusion, a hope based on our fears and our inability to learn to be vulnerable so that we can be joyful when life brings us joy and present with our loss and pain in our sorrows.
My niece Macarena sent me the following email when she heard about Laika…
"…think of how much Laika has to be thankful for, how she has the most loving parents. I don’t think she could ask for anything else, and no matter what difficulties she has to go through, she has you at her side at all times.
She is a lucky and happy dog. She has and is giving you so much because you gave her the chance to do so. No matter the hard times I believe she is happy."
Her email gave me much comfort and her words ring true…
Laika has been diagnosed with gastric carcinoma. Stomach cancer is one of the rarest cancers in dogs and also one of the most aggressive. When I heard the diagnosis, my heart plummeted so low that I felt I would never be able to recover. Why Laika? Why us? Why now? And once again I am learning life lessons as a result of my relationships with dogs - as a result for my deep love for Laika. I am forced to learn how to be vulnerable by not killing joy. Her future is dire. Only a few weeks to live.
John also reminded me that she is here and alive now feeling happy and engaging in things she likes, and for me to enjoy whatever time we have with her. I struggled for days feeling sorry for her and feeling sorry for us. Laying awake at night thinking of all sorts of scenarios about how her end will be. I realize too how my mother’s recent death has taught me a great deal on how to live with Laika’s inevitable passing.
When my mom was alive, I got to see her once or twice a year. We were very close and talked weekly over the phone. This arrangement is a consequence of living abroad - it's a painful reminder that it is impossible to have all our loved ones with us all at once!
Life is about making choices and living with the consequences of those choices. After her death, her absence has become my constant companion. My mom is now ALWAYS with me. Every day. Everywhere. The physical distance of time past is now irrelevant. I feel more cared and accompanied today that I did when I was able to actually be with her only a few weeks a year. Getting to this point was, of course, a process. A valiant process of being present with my loss, my grief, and choosing to live my life. This being exactly what I know my mother would have wanted me to do. I know that once the pain of losing Laika has diminished, Laika too will be with me always, everyday, everywhere.
In life either you choose to engage in relationships or you don’t. It's that simple, I think. When one chooses to have dogs as companions, we cannot move away from the pain that their sickness, suffering and one day their death will bring. The choice is ours to make: love and learn to be vulnerable or lose out on one of the most loving relationships of all.
As we face this really sour step, I keep reminding myself that I must be the adult in this relationship. That I owe it to Laika to pay attention (as my veterinarian suggested) when I ask her how would I know when it is time to let her go… Pay attention she told me.
What great advice…pay attention! Laika does not need my pity, my tears of my forceful embrace. She needs for me to be strong – unselfish so that I can let her go when her quality of life is lacking.
Her life and now her soon-to-be-death reminded me that we really have no idea what the future brings. It is just an illusion, a hope based on our fears and our inability to learn to be vulnerable so that we can be joyful when life brings us joy and present with our loss and pain in our sorrows.
My niece Macarena sent me the following email when she heard about Laika…
"…think of how much Laika has to be thankful for, how she has the most loving parents. I don’t think she could ask for anything else, and no matter what difficulties she has to go through, she has you at her side at all times.
She is a lucky and happy dog. She has and is giving you so much because you gave her the chance to do so. No matter the hard times I believe she is happy."
Her email gave me much comfort and her words ring true…
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