Sabine,
You’ve been in the hospital the past three days, fighting for your life. I can’t believe how different it feels not having you here…shadowing me…pawing at me…meowing at me. No matter where I went, you always followed…you were always there.
I’m racked with guilt thinking that I could have taken you in sooner, that it could have made a difference, that you might have had a better prognosis if I had. I keep thinking that if I didn’t leave you alone the past weekend, I would have seen all the signs. Most of all, I feel guilty that I spent so much time away from you–traveling, working, doing things that didn’t matter or weren’t important, knowing you’d always be waiting for me when I returned home.
I hate thinking of you alone and scared in the hospital. All I want to do is bring you home and hold you, and make you feel better. I’m sick to my stomach knowing that all I can do is hope for the best. Hoping and waiting never seems like it’s enough.
I can’t imagine losing you, Sabine. It seems unfair in so many ways. I can’t imagine not having you around. It seems unbearable. I keep thinking that you’ll get better and we’ll go on with our lives, and have more time together.
Sabine, I’m sorry for yelling at you. For getting annoyed when you meowed too much. For always pushing you away when you pushed your face into mine while I was working. I’m sorry I locked you in the basement to teach you a lesson. I’m sorry for the times I ignored you when you tried to get my attention. I’m sorry for not spending more weekends with you. I didn’t deserve you, baby. I’m so sorry I failed you.
Whatever happens, I want you to know that you were such an unexpected gift, and one of the few blessings I’ve had in my life. You were my angel. A God-send. You were with me right before my dad died, you kept me company when I felt so alone and so sad, and when I felt like nobody understood. You are such a special baby, the sweetest, gentlest little girl I’ve ever known, and if I didn’t have you in my life, I would have been so lost the past four years.
I wonder if, now that Sly and I are married, and now that Sly is taking care of me, if this is God’s way of releasing you from your duty. I’m not ready to say goodbye, Sabine. I love you too much.
Whatever time we have left together, I will love you more than enough for the years we’ll never get. I’ll never leave your side, and never give up on you. We’ll watch cooking shows together. We’ll watch the squirrels outside. We’ll watch Daddy make dinner. I’ll hold you as close as you let me, which probably means you’ll sleep on my shoulder, like you have been doing the past few days before you went to the hospital.
Sabine, my sweet, sweet little girl, I love you. Please keep fighting.
kevin
February 20, 2011 at 9:19 amHave tried to think of comforting words that might turn some of what you're feeling to something else. Nothing in my head has been up to the task. As for your thinking you failed her, I don't see it now, and never saw it anywhere in this record of her life with you. I see the joy that she brought to you and the home that you gave to her. You chose to love her, and these pictures and posts bear out the fact that she loved you back. There's nothing of a failed relationship in any of this. As for guilt, I won't say not to feel it. That's part of the process that'll see you through to the other side of this. Being truly guilty or responsible would mean possessing power over life and death, when it rains, and the turning of worlds. You don't do any of that. You did give her a place where she was adored and cared for, where she was kept out of the street and out of the cold. You gave her that feeling of looking forward to seeing you everyday, and that kind of looking forward is vital to a good life. That's what you're responsible for.
I will remember the beaming in your updates of Sabine's life, the pleasure you took in dressing her up (she would've been dynamite in a string bikini). I will remember that she could've scared off a Great Dane with all that fur.
I will remember the family between you and Sabine.
Keeping good thoughts…
V
February 20, 2011 at 5:20 pmThank you for your words. I've fluctuated between letting go and fighting on. I think we've decided to keep fighting as long as there is a chance. I couldn't live knowing I could have done something to either cure her completely, or allow her a significant amount of quality time on the earth. We have a plan to see a specialist, and continue treatment. I'm still praying for a miracle though…praying that she'll hear me when I tell her to keep fighting as hard as she can.
The Gould Family
February 20, 2011 at 8:14 pmSabine – Pandora needs someone to keep her in line. Sending you lots of love and cuddles.
kevin
February 20, 2011 at 9:42 pmI like fighting. Thought the situation was more dire when I posted this. I hadn't seen the exchange about home dialysis. That changes the odds.
Keeping good thoughts…
V
February 21, 2011 at 10:23 amIt's still pretty dire, and we still really need a miracle. She might not be a candidate for any further treatment…but if that's the case, at least we can rest knowing we did all we could. It's so touch and go every day, up and down. Keep praying for a miracle…Pandora def. does need someone to swat her in the face when she's been bad.