You keep on losing

I haven't given up on life. I understand everyone has their struggles. Some more than others.

I still have my dreams. They're still within reach.

September my dog died in my arms. I haven't been the same since.

Earlier that day I had taken him to the vet. They said he had fluid in his lungs, but, we could treat that.

I didn't think twice about spending the money on my buddy. The 500 odd dollars spent was worth it. Even though he did die later.

To digress, I have a red book that I will be keeping my inner most thoughts about Laddie in. The things I remember, where we were, the names I called him, and the adventures we had. This blog isn't just about him, but, death in general.

I want an extraordinary life. I've been trying to make sure it happens. I understand that I need to try harder.

I haven't recalled the last time my emotions have been so raw. My dog left an incredible mark on my life.

I had Laddie since I was 16 years old. He has been through the bad and the good.

Losing my Grandfather was painful, as was losing my Grandmother.

I imagine losing my mother will be just as bad, one day.

I knew one day my dog would no longer be here. Over the last few years I have cherished the years I have had with him.

You never expect anyone to die, but they do.

My dog had diabetes.

He had some urinary tract infections.

He still had life in him.

He wasn't miserable.

The rolling in the grass.

The barking at the neighbour lady who threw shit at him when he was younger. He never forgot that. He really hated that little shit. Now a big shit. He just didn't forget.

I had to say Laddie, come on.

It was funny that a near blind diabetic dog could still hold such a grudge.

I always thought people could make a comeback and have second act when a illness occurred.

I wanted to hope my Grandmother would live. I know it didn't look good. I couldn't contain the tears and turned away in shame.

She grab my arm. I know it was her telling me it was ok, even in her disorientated state.

My Grandfather got out of the ICU, and it seemed like things were getting better. Then they got worse.

The night he died (December 23rd 2010) I was in Toronto rushing to get back to the hospital. The previous night I forgot my niece's Christmas gift at Sushi Time on Queen Street in Toronto.

I knew he was in bad shape. I didn't know death was imminent. I had hope. If you don't have hope what do you have? Nothing.

I might not have my complete faith (lapsed Catholic, if you may know). But I still have hope.

I drove as safely and fast as I could home. In fact I went in between the carpool lane, and the passing lane. Crossing the lines of where you aren't suppose to go. Passing the slow as hell drivers.

One thing I hate is driving in the winter. It freaks me out. I imagine hitting a patch of black ice and something terrible happening. I wasn't scared shit less when I was driving that night.

I ran into the hospital up to the sixth floor. I saw my Aunt collapse outside the room where my Grandfather was. I didn't know the room number. I saw my Aunt leave a room. Maybe with my hope I was naive, I then registered that my Grandfather had just died.

My Mother exited the room and was composed. She held it together good.

I wonder if I was in the hospital when my Grandfather just died. I assume I was.

When I walked into the room, I saw his eyes starring up at the ceiling. I said my goodbyes. Grasped his hand like I did when I saw him in the ICU.

I still recall going in the ICU where my mother was and my Uncle. I had been there previously on an occasion. I couldn't keep my composure. My face was flooded with tears, thus causing my Uncle and Mother to cry. I didn't think he would get out of there. He did get out of the ICU just not out of the hospital.

It took some time to get over the death of my Grandfather. Here was figure I had in my life for a long time. A father figure even when I had my biological sperm giver in my life. A constant, a constant.

Now they were gone. I wondered how do you repair that? You can't. You can never repair or replace them.

When my dog was dying in front of me, all I could do was comfort him. I thought he was going to make it. He didn't. I tried to give him water, to get him to eat his pill. His mouth was gasping for air. My little buddy. My Laddie was dying in front of me. I just pet him, I pet him.

My sister was suppose to take us back to the vet. I spent thirty minutes trying to resuscitate him.

"He's gone James."

There was no hope left.

A lot of me died that day.

I've got the memories to haunt me. The pictures and videos to look at. His ashes. His collar.

Death will come. I hope that whoever is in my future doesn't give up me. As I would never give up on them. Maybe there is some hope left.

The pain won't ever fully go away, but, maybe just maybe you can somewhat begin again.