Memorial Day will mark one year since my mom died. I've been going fast- forward with keeping myself busy. As my readers already know, I had to put three special dogs to sleep when my mom came home with hospice. I never expected her to die three days later.
It's been a strange year for me. I'd be alone if it wasn't for the rest of the rescued animals still with me. I thought I was doing really well - until a commercial came on with a border collie. One of the dogs I had to put to sleep was a special-needs border collie, Reggie. He was with me for eight years. I fought for him in court when the man who abused him sued me to get him back. He was beautiful and very special to me. And I killed him. I started smoking again. That commercial started my slide into darkness.
I was being told it's time to put away my mom's belongings, that I was living with an illusion and that I had to have my home reflect the reality, that I am alone now. Mothers' Day spam and ads were flooding me. I was arguing with others. I was on medicine to help me calm my nerves, but wanted to add to it and the doctor agreed. I loved the feeling of calmness the medicine gave me but I could tell a depression was still setting in.
Looking back now time became a blur. What was no more than a few days feels now like a lifetime. How I found them I can't remember, but I came across some people who felt bad too; who accepted me and understood. Not a bad thing right? But they also told me how to kill myself to end the pain.
The lessons I was taught about not acting impulsively was what probably allowed me to stick around long enough to receive an email that jolted me back to reality. I did as I was taught. Don't leave any loose ends. So I wrote final instructions on what to do with my animals. I had everything I needed in my home and was taught how to make sure it was effective. I was writing the emails that would be sent out automatically after my death to friends when I got an email from a friend. It was in the midst of other ones supporting me and my decision to die.