Anyone On Here Feel Like They Are "Good" At Dealing With Death?

A Short Novel About Death.

(I guarantee that not a single person gets through this entire thread )

I have a very weird decision I'm facing. I can either make a choice to give my mother more "freedom" in her elder years... or I can help her "kill" my dog... "our dog" I should say. All I know is it doesn't feel like euthanization, because I don't believe the dog is to that point yet.

This is going to be a somewhat long & depressing thread. But also an inquistive and introspective one. And I'm sure there are no right answers here. Maybe I really just want to talk to myself... in public, and if anyone wants to chime in on the "conversation", thats cool. :p

When I was 18 (12 years ago), my mother brought a dog home during what was probably the hardest time of my life. An adorable little min pin that was small enough to fit in my baseball cap. But at this time I was addicted to drugs, and had some serious issues with anxiety/depression/multiple addictions.

For the 1 year I had that dog, I became less depressed/less anxious, and was on a slow upwards trend. I even went as far as naming her "Happy" because she made me happy during a time of my life, where I didn't think anything could make me happy.

Then something bad happened. I got arrested and sentenced to 7 years in prison for drug charges. In which I was released on good behavoir after 2 years.

The thing that nobody really knows about this story, even my family, is during that time I became extremely depressed again. And I hid it from my family really well.

I had hung up a picture of Happy in my cell, and even today when I think back to that time, I feel like that dog is the only reason I survived prison and recovered from multiple drug addictions. I feel like that dog is the only reason I didn't try to kill myself, which I'd think about every morning when I was tore from my dreams and would realize where I was. Anytime something bad would happen, or I'd get stressed out, threatened, or just miss my family.. or my "friends" who never visited.. I would stare at Happy's pictures for hours and it would make me feel so much better.



That dog became my only reason for living and the only reason I struggled to stay "Happy" myself.

Eventually I got out after 2 years, was reunited with my family and dog, at which time Happy peed all over me and I didn't realize it till I was done smothering her in kisses.

Over the next 3-4 years, my life changed dramatically, I became a new man, and I grew that much more attached to this dog. I learned how to feel and love. I learned how to have empathy for people and animals. I would work out with her, go running, take her to the beach.. and she was the single best friend I ever had.

Eventually I moved out and got my own place, and would pick Happy up religiously on the weekends, to bring her back to my home and play with her as much as I could. Which my brothers thought was extremely weird and would often say "you need to get a GF". Which eventually I did. But still, noone could ever understand why this dog meant so much to me. Or the fact that this dog saved my life.

Well a few years later Happy got diabetes and we had to have surgery on 1 of her eyes to take it out. I told myself "no big deal", its typical for this to happen to min pins when they get older.

However, because she was going blind, she would panic when I would take her home now, as she couldn't navigate rooms/walls and it would make her extremely nervous. To the point where one night I almost thought she was dying, (she was vomiting/falling down/walking into walls) and I decided it was the different environment that was stressing her out... moreso than losing her vision

I realized she was getting too old and that it would probably be best not to take her home anymore on the weekends. And so I spent my first weekend without her, and things haven't really been the same since.

I made it a point to still go to my parents home once a week, to play with her & spend as much time with her as possible. Till this day, I can't think of 1 person in my family who has showed that dog as much love as I have.
But I noticed myself doing something wierd after a few months, like skipping weekends which is something I never did. I'd think of all these great excuses in my head, like "I'm too busy", but knew deep down inside I was just trying to detach from her emotionally. And realizing what I was doing made me feel that much more guilty about it.

Well recently, my mothers been complaining and fighting with my dad because they are both getting old, and are having problems taking care of Happy. I also feel like the dog reminds them of their own old age (my mom is 70), their own decline in health, and I feel like that plays a bigger role in everything... almost making them despise Happy, which I know they will never admit.

Don't get me wrong, they still love the dog, but I know its getting to the point where they can't do the things they want, and my mom is always complaining about not having "freedom" because she always has to be home to give the dog insulin shots.

However, when I look at Happy, I still see a perfectly healthy dog. She is blind, and she's got diabetes, and she does walk into walls on occassion, but she still wags her tail, and she still gets excited everytime she sees me... she still loves food and still goes hunting in the trash anytime she has the opportunity. But no more chasing birds, no more playing with other small dogs, and she spends a lot of time either laying by a sunny window or relaxing in her bed.

To me, it seems like she definitely has a couple years left, to my mother, at her current age, a "couple years left" means a couple years more taking care of her and giving her shots, and not being able to just get up and do what she wants. And naturally this is important to my mother the older she gets.

I am now stuck in position, where my mom is trying to blame me for a lot of the stress she's dealing with. But I don't think its as much about freedom, as the fact that the dog reminds her of her own slowly approaching death. Which I've said to them, and I can tell by how quickly they deny it and get emotional, that this is what the real problem is. Nobody likes to talk about death. Nobody likes to think about it. But we all know its going to happen one day. I feel like its smart to not think about death so much. But I also feel like thinking about it can make you appreciate life more. So sometimes its hard to find a balance.

Even though I believe that Happy can have another couple of great years, and is still enjoying her life, my parents have convinced themselves otherwise. To preserve their own sanity I suppose. And in a weird way, I feel like if we put her down now, the next thing I have to look forward to is dealing with my parents getting sick or ill.

I honestly don't know what to do. But they won't put the dog down with out my approval. So now its gotten to the point where everytime I talk to my parents, they're trying to convince me that "its time". Meanwhile when I go see the dog, it doesn't seem like "its time" at all. However, I have no idea how selfish I'm being because I'm not the one taking care of Happy like they do. I realize its very stressful, and I realize its that much more stressful because my parents have to take care of themselves, just as much as Happy now.

I just feel like if we put that dog down, I'm putting down a part of myself. A very personal and powerful part of life. An aspect of my personality that has defined and shaped my life for the last 10 years.

Its just one giant clusterf##k of confusion.

And although I don't feel that depressed, I have been thinking about death quite a bit lately.

What I really find most intriguing about it, is 2 things.

1) The fact the noone likes to talk about it.
2) The fact that some people can deal with it really well, and for other people, it ruins their life.

And its #2 that really makes me wonder. When my mothers mother died, she was traumatized by it for years. She delt with it really bad. And 15 years later now, she still gets sad when she talks about her mother.

However, when my fathers mother died, it was a completely different story. In both situations, noone was suprised. They both knew it would happen. But yet my father barely seemed phased by his mothers death. I know that men hide things better (apparently), but it did not seem like this was the case at all. He seemed like he was his normal self in less than a week, and even as a kid, I couldn't understand how the hell he did it.

I also notice that some cultures teach people to celebrate death, and American culture, thanks to Hollywood, teaches us the complete opposite. I don't think its possible for you to be happy when someone dies. I'm not even trying to say anything like that. But I am curious for people on here, who have delt with the death of a loved one... mother, father... pet... how did you deal with it?

To deal with it in a positive way.. is it simply a matter of acceptance? A type of "shit happens" attitude? I realize that other factors will play a role. Like how happy a person you normally are. But I still believe there are more fundamental forces that govern how a person will deal with death.

For me, I feel like one side of me views death from the attitude my dad conveyed when I was younger, like it just happens, there is nothing you can do about it, so why let it bring you down?

Then another side of me views death from the emotions my mother displayed. Like it should completely ruin your life for 5-10 years, and lead you to feel guilty and question all types of "what if" situations, till the day you yourself die.

For me, its like I almost don't even know how I should feel. This may seem like a really deep/weird question, and I guess it is. But for people who have personally delt with death, have you ever thought about how you coped with it? Good or bad? And have you ever wondered why you coped with it the way you did?

Maybe this thread can help people who are dealing with much more serious situations. Maybe noone will be willing to talk about something as sensitive as death. But even now, the way my mom and dad look at putting this dog down, they are polar opposites. My mom gets all choked up, my dad jokes about it and laughs. Like death genuinely doesn't phase him. And I honestly don't believe its an act. For some reason, he just doesn't let death get to him... and I seem to be stuck in the middle somewhere.

Happy is now 12 years old, much of her hair is graying, she missing 1 eye and the eye she does have is clouded over by a cataract. I don't think we'll put her down in the next few weeks, but I have a feeling it will happen by summer.

Its one of the wierdest things to think about death, and how you believe you'll deal with it when certain people or pets pass away. As ugly as death is, it is in fact that 1 thing that makes life beautiful. If people lived forever, if your beautiful pets lived forever... how could we learn to appreciate them if time didn't mandate it? I just hope that when Happy is gone, I can come back and read this thread, and perhaps I'll smile and cry at the same time. But I really do hope most of all, that I can stay true to her name, what she gave to my life, and be mostly happy.

-Red