My sweet Bailey bear,
It has been four days since you passed away, and oh how my heart aches for you. My grief has grown and morphed into feelings that I cannot describe. There have been ups and downs, and the downs have been so low, so crippling. Each day I wake up to a new pain, and each day I wonder when it will subside. As the shock begins to fade, the crushing weight of reality knocks the breath out of me. I struggle to come to terms with the fact that you are really gone. It happened so quickly, and the memories of you running and jumping around are so fresh, so clear, that the stark contrast of the situation makes me break down in tears over and over again.
Bailey, my love, I know you were sick, but you were doing so well. I keep wondering if your heart valve hadn’t ruptured, if you’d still be here. The two months since your prognosis filled me with such hope. You took incredibly well to the meds, supplements, acupuncture, home-made food, and heaps of extra love and attention. You were in optimal health, minus the morning cough. The night before you passed, you were zipping back and forth in the bedroom, barking at Shadow, and going nuts over your squeaky toys. When I came home on Tuesday, you eagerly jumped into your carrier when I told you we were going to ong wai and ba wai’s house. 30 minutes later, I was on the phone with the vet ER, and within the hour, you were getting treatment at the hospital. I expected you to come home the next day, just as the vet reassured me, and I had planned to spend the afternoon in bed with you as you rested and recovered. I had no time to prepare. You went from your usual happy self to gone in a matter of eight hours. (How typical of you to be in such a hurry to do things.) When the phone rang at 10:35 PM and I saw that it was the ER calling, my heart sank into my stomach. I constantly relive the anguish and agony I felt as I called out to you to wait for me as Shayne rushed me to the hospital. I pleaded with you not to go, to please wait for me, to please stay. You were such a good boy, Bay. You fought so hard, and wait you did. I knew soon after I saw you that it was time to let you go. I went to call ong wai and ba wai and asked you to please hang on for them. Minutes before they arrived, you regained consciousness and woke up, much to the surprise of the vet, who had thought you wouldn’t. You were able to see us one last time, before you decided it was time to go. I didn’t want you to go, Bailey. As selfish as that is, I wanted you to stay with me longer. I would have never been ready to lose you, but this was too abrupt. I yearn and ache for you, Bailey. I miss squishing your soft, fluffy little body in my arms, as you wriggle to be free of my cuddles. I miss your crazy expressions and all the silly, funny things you do. You made me laugh every day, Bailey, and I will miss your constant companionship. I cry every time I open the door and you’re not there for me to scoop up and hold as you cover me with welcome home kisses.
Bailey, you came home with me 10 years ago on New Year’s Eve, 2006. You were a 2.7 lb. little fur ball and you gave me a run for my money trying to train you and adapt to my new bundle of responsibility. It was just the two of us for quite some time, at our then-new house. I am so glad you spent time at the current-new house, scurrying about and sniffing every last nook and cranny, making the space your own. It will be even more difficult to leave our home now, knowing that this was the only home you ever knew. I hope you know that I want you to go with me, Bay. I’m not leaving you behind. I would never leave you behind. This was supposed to be our new home, and even though you will never live there, I know it will be filled with your presence. You’re always and forever going to be in my heart.
I still talk to you, Baybay. You and I have always had the best conversations. Our connection was uniquely strong, and anyone who spent time with us could clearly see it. You have affected many lives during your time here. Your ong wai and ba wai miss you desperately. They love you as deeply as I do, and their hearts are just as broken as mine. Everyone who met you mourns your loss. People who have never met you feel like they know you and mourn for you. This very blog started with a picture of your huge, infectious smile. You’ve touched hearts around the globe, Bailey. Not many people can make that claim, but you, Sir Fluffy Bottoms, with your sweet little face, accomplished that task.
Bailey, you are the best little baby and I am so grateful you were mine. As much as I took care of you, you took care of me, especially through my deepest and darkest days. Thank you, little bear, for bringing such intense love and happiness to my life, to ong wai’s and ba wai’s lives, and to everyone else whose life you touched. Many thoughts and prayers and much love and light have been sent your way. Your spirit will continue to shine brightly, just as it always has. Of this I am sure. I struggle to find a way to end this letter, since I don’t really want it to have an ending. The words transcribed here are but a snippet of the thoughts and feelings I am trying to process as I navigate this darkness. I’ll still keep talking to you, Bailey. I can’t imagine not doing so. I want to think that you’ll always be with me, wherever I go. That’s one of the very few things that give me a sense of peace, is knowing that although your physical presence has gone, your spirit remains. You will forever be my sweet baby.
I love you always, Bailey. Kiss kiss.