Sometimes the mind gets stuck in a memory loop. No matter what you do, any moment that you’re not actively thinking about something, the mind can just keep going back to the same thought. It’s kind of like a song stuck in your head, which is one type of loop. For me, as you can imagine if you read my last post, my mind keeps landing right back in that examination room with my dog, Snow. It was the first time I’ve ever experienced death first-hand like that and it has been the most vivid and difficult memory to deal with so far in my life.
It was both beautiful and terrifying. Peaceful and saddening. To feel those last movements, those last breaths of a loved one, leaves an imprint in your mind like no other experience can. I’ve wondered a couple of times if I should have stayed away, but I immediately shake that off, because it was of utmost importance that I be there. Not being able to be there when Pepper passed; not being able to see him one last time is something that I’ve dealt with underneath it all for a year. Being there for Snow helped me to finally be at peace with that, and as much as it hurts now and as much as my mind fixates on her last moments when I’m idle, I know that it was the right thing to do, not only by her, but for my own sanity.
Thoughts and memories as important these are unstoppable. And so they should be. Suppressing them isn’t the answer. Peace is the answer. But being at peace is an everyday struggle for many people, and when dealing with situations like this, is a goal that seems so far away, but will rapidly close in as time passes.
Once I’m ready, I’ll share some memories of Snow and Pepper that celebrate how important they were to my family and I. But for now, I need to let these thoughts remain unstoppable. I’m in a loop, but I’m not stuck. I just want to hang out here for a little while longer, by myself. Just me and my last memories of Snow.