Wednesday, 28 July 2010
In a few hours it will be three years since I said goodbye to my little boy. At roughly this time I was curled around him on the bed, propping him on his side so that he could sleep comfortably. I'll never forget how scared I was, knowing what I needed to do the next day. Every day since then I've wondered if I made the decision too soon, and if I could have just savoured an extra few hours or days with him. And every day I decide that I knew him well enough to know that he was simply too tired for me to expect him to carry on. He was so brave, and it was only during the last day that he gave any real indication that he'd had enough.
I've just watched some videos of him that I have never watched before. I took them when he was first diagnosed, and it was beginning to dawn on me that I was going to lose him. If you didn't know the context you would wonder why I'd candidly recorded such everyday activities - eating dinner, chewing bones, waiting for his Grandparents to visit etc.... but they were moments that I knew I could never get back. I haven't felt able to watch them until now; I've been too frightened about what I might see, how I might react, and whether it would set me back years in the grieving process. Now was the right time, and I spent most of the time smiling, rather than crying as I had expected. The volume of treats that were dispensed as part of everyday life was quite incredible, as were the number of sighs that I seemed to produce.
There was one particular video that I found very hard to watch, where I had set the camera up in the corner of the room and just left it running. I was sitting on the sofa with Prince, just talking to him in my usual 'baby-voice' when my face simply collapsed and I started crying as I hugged him. Seeing your grown-self fall apart like this is pretty disturbing, especially when I tried so hard throughout the time he was ill not to let him see me crying. That sounds so crazy, but it's true.
I can't imagine a time when I don't still think of him every day as I walk Tilly, and go through my somewhat odd ritual of talking to him and wishing him goodnight before I go to sleep. I'm glad I watched the videos though. It was the right time.
I couldn't pop up after a year away from the blog without posting a picture of 'The Girl'. It may be three years since I lost Prince, but that does of course mean that it's nearly three years since Tilly arrived. She's been my absolute saviour. I genuinely don't know what would have happened to me of she hadn't come along.
There are times when she drives me nuts, but they're very few and far between. There are many, many, times every day when I almost suffer real palpitations in trying to express how much I love her.
It may seem ludicrous to some, but I still believe that 'mysterious paws' were at work in bringing us together. Prince was such a kind and generous dog, that it's not beyond my belief to think that he brought us together because he knew we needed each other.
I have no doubt that he's justifiably pleased with his work, and very, very proud of his little sister.