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- May 19, 2024
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hi, my name is harlie, and my sweet boy Levi passed away unexpectedly two years ago.
this is my first post on this site ever and from what i’ve seen so far in this thread, there are thousands of beautiful souls with arms wide open, so i thought i would share. i had my sweet boy since i was 9 years old, and he passed away when i was 16. it was so sudden and unexpected, i wasn’t even at home or in the same state when he passed away.
in august of 2022 i had visited family in florida for 2 weeks, and the day before my flight i got the call from my mom. originally, i had thought it was my dog mollie, who is a 14 year old jackabee (who my family and i knows does not have much time left with us,) but nothing could have prepared me for the news i was about to receive.
to be completely honest, when i first heard that my baby had passed, it felt like my world stopped and shattered. he was my everything, he genuinely saved my life. i wasn’t even in the comfort of my own home to grieve. it was horrific.
i spent the entire day crying, and trying to laugh to stifle it until i got home. but there’s nothing that will compare to how absolutely empty i felt those two days. i dreaded the plane ride home, and i dreaded stepping foot into my house knowing he wouldn’t be there to greet him. the realization that that morning before i left for the airport was the last time i would ever see him again still hadn’t set in. truthfully, i was numb.
but later that night it seemed to hit me a bit more. i caught myself waiting for his paws at my door, the jingling of his collar, things like that. but when they never came, it was just adding onto the cracks waiting to crumble in the crushing realization that i would never see him again.
i was a mess the next few days. every day i cried, life felt so hard. but the final nail in the coffin was the day his ashes were brought home. it was an insanely bittersweet feeling. more bitter than sweet. my baby was back home, but he was dead. he was ashes in a box with his name on it, but he was home. the grief hit me like a train. the fact that i would never feel his fur, hold him in my arms, hear him meow, it crushed me. i have never cried harder in my life.
but unfortunately for me, school was starting back up in a matter of weeks, so my family decided to go back to the same shelter where we adopted Levi and look for another furry friend there. coincidentally enough, Levi’s sister was there at the shelter. it was a surreal feeling, because it felt like he was still here, even if it was his sister. she was just as beautiful as he was, but my mom and i knew it would have been unfair to her if we adopted her. we would’ve tried to see him through her, and that wouldn’t be right tor her.
we found my new baby there, a calico who’s name was melissa (which, coincidentally enough, is the name of my parents’ friend of 25+ years) and we played with her for a while. something in my heart told me she was the one, and sure enough we adopted her. the shelter took $50 off the adoption cost because they recognized us from adopting Levi, and i changed her name to Quinn. the first few weeks were rough, i couldn’t help but see him through her. i couldn’t help but feel angry at the world that i had to “replace” him with her.
but eventually i got to an okay place, i started this routine where when i feel especially down or am grieving especially hard, i go downstairs and sit on the couch with his box of ashes and i hold him. i talk to him and tell him how much i still love him, even if he isn’t here with me anymore. this is sort of embarrassing to admit, but sometimes i pet the outside of the box where his name is to give him all the pets in the world. it brings me some sort of comfort to know i can still hold him.
fast forward to now, and quinn is my pride and joy. i truly believe he sent her to me to heal me, to let me know i can move on and love another friend the way i loved him. with her, my bond with her is almost maternal. my family jokes around that she’s my daughter, but it’s not entirely untrue. she’s attached to me at the hip (except for when i’m not home) and the bond we have is unlike anyone else in my family. i’m forever thankful he sent her to me.
but i still grieve my baby every day. it feels like this pain will never go away, and there will always be a hole in my heart that will never heal. i still cry almost weekly about his death, and i suppose it’s because i partially blame myself.
he head pressed for months. none of us noticed he did it, none of us knew it meant something was wrong. he never pressed his head against walls or blankets, it would be on one of us. we thought he was just being affectionate. mentally, i beat myself up for never noticing it meant something was wrong. i feel like i failed him. does this pain ever go away? i miss my baby so much. i loved him more than life. i hope he knows that if i knew, i would have tried my best to help him. i feel so devastated still, two years later.
thank you for anyone who takes the time to read this. you all are such beautiful people. i wish you all well. <3
this is my first post on this site ever and from what i’ve seen so far in this thread, there are thousands of beautiful souls with arms wide open, so i thought i would share. i had my sweet boy since i was 9 years old, and he passed away when i was 16. it was so sudden and unexpected, i wasn’t even at home or in the same state when he passed away.
in august of 2022 i had visited family in florida for 2 weeks, and the day before my flight i got the call from my mom. originally, i had thought it was my dog mollie, who is a 14 year old jackabee (who my family and i knows does not have much time left with us,) but nothing could have prepared me for the news i was about to receive.
to be completely honest, when i first heard that my baby had passed, it felt like my world stopped and shattered. he was my everything, he genuinely saved my life. i wasn’t even in the comfort of my own home to grieve. it was horrific.
i spent the entire day crying, and trying to laugh to stifle it until i got home. but there’s nothing that will compare to how absolutely empty i felt those two days. i dreaded the plane ride home, and i dreaded stepping foot into my house knowing he wouldn’t be there to greet him. the realization that that morning before i left for the airport was the last time i would ever see him again still hadn’t set in. truthfully, i was numb.
but later that night it seemed to hit me a bit more. i caught myself waiting for his paws at my door, the jingling of his collar, things like that. but when they never came, it was just adding onto the cracks waiting to crumble in the crushing realization that i would never see him again.
i was a mess the next few days. every day i cried, life felt so hard. but the final nail in the coffin was the day his ashes were brought home. it was an insanely bittersweet feeling. more bitter than sweet. my baby was back home, but he was dead. he was ashes in a box with his name on it, but he was home. the grief hit me like a train. the fact that i would never feel his fur, hold him in my arms, hear him meow, it crushed me. i have never cried harder in my life.
but unfortunately for me, school was starting back up in a matter of weeks, so my family decided to go back to the same shelter where we adopted Levi and look for another furry friend there. coincidentally enough, Levi’s sister was there at the shelter. it was a surreal feeling, because it felt like he was still here, even if it was his sister. she was just as beautiful as he was, but my mom and i knew it would have been unfair to her if we adopted her. we would’ve tried to see him through her, and that wouldn’t be right tor her.
we found my new baby there, a calico who’s name was melissa (which, coincidentally enough, is the name of my parents’ friend of 25+ years) and we played with her for a while. something in my heart told me she was the one, and sure enough we adopted her. the shelter took $50 off the adoption cost because they recognized us from adopting Levi, and i changed her name to Quinn. the first few weeks were rough, i couldn’t help but see him through her. i couldn’t help but feel angry at the world that i had to “replace” him with her.
but eventually i got to an okay place, i started this routine where when i feel especially down or am grieving especially hard, i go downstairs and sit on the couch with his box of ashes and i hold him. i talk to him and tell him how much i still love him, even if he isn’t here with me anymore. this is sort of embarrassing to admit, but sometimes i pet the outside of the box where his name is to give him all the pets in the world. it brings me some sort of comfort to know i can still hold him.
fast forward to now, and quinn is my pride and joy. i truly believe he sent her to me to heal me, to let me know i can move on and love another friend the way i loved him. with her, my bond with her is almost maternal. my family jokes around that she’s my daughter, but it’s not entirely untrue. she’s attached to me at the hip (except for when i’m not home) and the bond we have is unlike anyone else in my family. i’m forever thankful he sent her to me.
but i still grieve my baby every day. it feels like this pain will never go away, and there will always be a hole in my heart that will never heal. i still cry almost weekly about his death, and i suppose it’s because i partially blame myself.
he head pressed for months. none of us noticed he did it, none of us knew it meant something was wrong. he never pressed his head against walls or blankets, it would be on one of us. we thought he was just being affectionate. mentally, i beat myself up for never noticing it meant something was wrong. i feel like i failed him. does this pain ever go away? i miss my baby so much. i loved him more than life. i hope he knows that if i knew, i would have tried my best to help him. i feel so devastated still, two years later.
thank you for anyone who takes the time to read this. you all are such beautiful people. i wish you all well. <3
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