This was the day that my mom warned me about 15 years ago. And, I wish I have at least half the courage that I had back then.
I have never been good at consoling people who are mourning. Because I know that nothing I say or do will compensate their loss.
Probably around 15 years back, the same time, my mom told me I must be prepared and that, when the day comes I must understand. Understand, that everybody born in this world will have to leave it at some point. I was so naive back then that I really did not even try to consume her warning. I so badly wanted a puppy that I agreed to every terms and condition laid before me.
And then, she came into my life. She was just 45 days old then. We grew up together. She knows me better than I do. She was there when I used to get nightmares from the after warmth of Tsunami. She was there when I sat for my boards. From learning Algebra to Microprocessor, she was there at every face of my life, every up and every down.
The fact that I have to write all of this in past tense itself jots a twist in my stomach. The last 8 to 9 months was as horrible as it could get, both to me and my family. And, she was there battling every dragon, every snake and every fox that came our way. A true fighter she was.
Then, last November she was diagnosed with a uterus problem. She had to get operated. The chances of her surviving were high if she made it through the anesthesia. But, the risks were also equally high considering her age. Well, that was the worst part of my life, I had to sign the forms for them to proceed even without knowing if she would make it out alive. It made me sick to my stomach. But, honestly speaking that was the first time I felt the presence of God in my life. I have gone through worst before that, but that was really the day that I felt a spiritual connection with the almighty.
She made it through and I couldn’t be any happier. Life actually started changing for the better after that. She would wake me up at odd hours because she wanted to hop onto the bed. On weekends, we’d spend all our time cuddling. I then booked my first car. Everything was converging.
No happiness lasts forever. On a sunny afternoon in March, she started vomiting back to back. She wouldn’t eat and fatigue overtook her. Worried, we took her to the hospital only to find that she was in the fourth stage of Renal failure. The doctor informed us that there was no way to undo this condition. And, considering her age it was a common problem.
I cried and cried. I could feel all the blood in my body gust to my brain as fast as possible. No amount of empathy or convincing from family and friends worked. My heart failed to understand what my brain did. I took off from work. She had to be on medication and drips. Every morning and evening I would take her to the hospital. She hardly had a few days left and I wanted to spend it with her.
I’d sit and tell her stories while she took her dosage. Sometimes it was me and sometimes it was my mother. The cruelest thing was we were banned from crying. She was an intelligent child and one drop of tear from our eyes is enough for her to suspect that something was wrong. We did not want that. After a week, her health recovered a little and I had to go to work that day. I woke up kissed her and told her that I was leaving to office. Something told me that could possibly be my last words to her.
At around 4, my mom called and told me that she passed away. It took me about an hour to reach home. Voidness filled my heart. I knew this was how it was going to end. It was her time. But, every day the earlier week I wished and prayed that she lived to see an extra day. But eventually, it had to happen.
That day I cried as hard as I could. The next day things fakely reverted to normal. I wanted it to look as normal as possible because there was another kid in the house and this was taking a toll on her. But, honestly, I don’t remember how life was or us before we brought her home. A week passed, friends came home and tried to cheer us as much as they could. Everything looked fine.
But, with every moving day the voidness increases. Even now every cell in my body cries out in pain. She did not just take a part of me with her, she took the happier version of me.
Every morning it aches when she does not come to wake me. At night, it aches to see her part of the bed empty. There is no way this void could be filled. A lot of them told that it would get better with time because there is another child at home. Actually no, I love her (the younger one) with all my heart but she is not the same. Julie was mine, she was the closest connection to me.
A few friends from the inner circle do not even know that this happened. I am sorry. I did not have the courage to tell anyone. I didn’t want people to react the way the would.
As the first law of thermodynamics states, energy can neither be created nor destroyed which means she is here somewhere around, maybe even watching me as I write this.
What comforts me is that she lived her life king size. There is no one thing that she missed in her 15 beautiful years. And, she also outlived others of her breed. But I have lost the one thing that has the power to comfort me – her dreamy blue-brown eyes.
To all those of you, who have come to this part of my blog, it was hard seeing her go. It still is. But my years with her were beyond beautiful and nothing that I say or write will do justice to that. Because of her, I know what unconditional love is. I request all of you not to write “RIP” in the comments (this is what I was scared of). But instead, the next time you see a dog hungry feed him/her, if you can take one home, do it. And in every act of your kindness, she will live and be remembered.