My Darcy Girl

There are sometimes things that happen in this earthly life that we do not understand, and it is likely that we will never know why on this side. This will most probably go at the top of that list.

A week ago tomorrow, I looked at my Doolittle and I knew it was time for me to let go. In the way that people always say it happens.

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I had done everything up to that point to keep her comfortable and she told me that it was no longer enough, but more meds did not mean living. I did everything I could to slow if not stop this freight train, but I found it had no brakes.

I could go on in details, and I will privately for anyone that is in the same position if it would be helpful, but I do not want that here. I do not want that on her remembrance.

So. I did the only thing I could do for her. The last, greatest and hardest gift I could give her. To set her free. To let her go home free of pain and suffering. To let her be happy.

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My mom drove us out to the farm that Friday afternoon where my Pops was waiting. It was threatening to rain and the clouds were growing darker. We took one last short walk in the pasture to greet the horses. Darcy was not much up for it, but I needed them. My Lito buried his head in my chest and Cheetah looked at me in that way only a special mare can. In that knowing way.

We sat on the porch and watched a light rain sprinkle and dry before our eyes while we waited.

The vet and tech arrived and they were as kind and nice as they could be. It was all very calm and peaceful. There were a lot of tears.

Then the most amazing thing happened. I have no words to explain it other than I know it was God. Those dark and threatening clouds parted in the very moment that Darcy left this earth and the sun shone through so very bright and strong. The intensity I felt I have never known and I can not describe in words. I could do nothing but smile up through my tears.

I carried her down to her final resting place with the others on the far side of the pond, under a great Pecan tree. I dipped her paws in the pond one last time so she could be farm dirty like she is supposed to be.

Back up at the house, I sat on the porch with my parents looking down the valley. I found myself looking through a heart shaped hole in the leaves of an oak tree with the sun twinkling and winking through.

I do not know how I did it other than I knew that was what I had to do.

She loved unconditionally. She more than spread joy everywhere she went, she was the living embodiment of it. An example to be made. She taught me about life and perspective. She taught me more than I could write about, here or otherwise. She was independent as heck fire and tough as nails, but she was also supremely sensitive, perceptive, and gentle. She was unabashedly herself. She was Darcy. She was my wingpup.

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She was more than just a dog.

I may not know much or why, but I do know where she is, who she is with, and where she will be waiting, putting her own spin on that angel band up there in the sky. I have no doubt that her great spirit was needed for His good. Even if it does feel like a double barrel kick in the guts. Even if it does feel at times like my heart might not even be there anymore. I am so grateful to have had her for those almost six years.

I want to thank all the vets and techs who have worked so hard to help and comfort us through all of this. My Pops who called and arranged everything because neither my Mom or I could do it, both of them for being there for us in the moment, and my whole family for checking in on me. And, I think most importantly, the vet and tech who met us out at the farm to do the job. I can not thank them enough for just being them. I do not have the words to thank you properly. Just, thank you.

Interestingly enough, this poem popped up today.

Get your tissues out, you will need more than one.


If it should be that I grow frail and weak
And pain does keep me from my sleep,
Then will you do what must be done
For this – the last battle – can’t be won.
You will be sad I understand
But don’t let grief then stay you hand.
For on this day, more than the rest
Your love and friendship must stand the test.
We have had so many happy years,
You wouldn’t want me to suffer so.
When the time comes, please let me go.
Take me to where my needs they’ll tend,
Only, stay with me till the end.
And hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time you will agree
It is a kindness you do to me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I have been saved.
Don’t grieve that it must now be you
Who has to decide this thing to do.
We’ve been so close – we two – these years,
Don’t let your heart hold any tears.
~Unknown

 

 

Walk in love, my dear readers, we all need it.

The Surface

I stumbled upon Carla Ber‘s blog a little while ago. Yesterday, not so coincidentally, she published a post entitled, ‘Go Deep. You Are Not Alone‘ basically discussing the very thing I was talking about yesterday, but just a little deeper (See what I did there?). Really, there are several things I have read lately that align with this.

The surface is boring, for all involved. Share your story with someone worthy. You will be amazed at how light and free you feel. By the connections you make. You are not alone. Am I a broken record yet?

It is the very core of why I wanted to start this blog. It is scary. It is hard. Boy, has it been worth it to me. To connect with you, my dear readers.

Sharing the story of my Uncle and the days following was terribly difficult for me. I almost did not do it because I was scared and heartbroken. I did not want to be judged or have my family judged. Thankfully, I realized that not sharing was not only the wrong thing for me, but it would have been the wrong thing for y’all. I feel stronger, lighter, and better for doing it. I can not thank y’all enough for your kind words and prayers. This is more than just about me though, I know that my sharing helped at least one person.

It is a serious kick in the gut to me (my pride) when I have a terrible ride and it is really all my fault. I try to share that though (and probably not very well because, hello, pride and ego) because that is the reality of working with horses. The reality of life. Everyone has bad rides and bad days. I walk in there with a big head, my horse is sure to humble me right down. It is about what you learn from it and how you grow from it. What you do with it and what you make of it. I at least know enough to know that I do not know everything. God willing, I have a lot of life left to live and learn. The horse has way more to teach me that I have to teach him. Most of all, to show up, continue to strive to be my best every day, and not compare my walk with that of another. Many days I feel like I suck at it, but that is OK because I am working on it.

I want to relate with you and know that I am not alone in my struggles. Know that you are not alone in yours. Spark ideas and open our minds.

Anyway, me being me and the way my mind works, reading her post made me think of this song (I know, I am obsessed with him). I hope you enjoy.

“I’m getting sick and tired
Of livin’ on the surface
And in between the lines”

Thanks to Sean‘s YouTube for the vid.

Walk in love, dear readers. Share your story.