Grief

 Grief.

No one can tell you anything helpful about it.

All I can tell you is that it's horrible and I want it to be over.

Apparently, grief doesn't work like that.

Especially for those of us on the autism spectrum, but it can be impossible for the strongest of us.

 I lost my babies. 

Both of them.

At the same time.

Nov. 8, 2024.

It has literally been the worst month of my entire life and that is saying something for those of you that know me & my history. 

And there are literally no helpful resources out there.

At all.

I can find a step by step on how to wax your balls but grief....

Yeah, nope.

And honestly, if you searched grief & ended up here, I'm probably not going to be a ton of help either.

What I can tell you is that you might reach a point where you think you are having a heart attack. Your chest will hurt so bad. Your stomach might hurt worse. You simultaneously feel nothing & the worst pain you have ever felt. And apparently, you throw up, or feel like you will, every time you try to eat, so you stop trying & consider the hospital.

I have two friends that are widows. WIDOWS! They lost their partners, who were two of the funniest humans I have ever encountered, and I cannot understand how they continue to function. They have immense fortitude. I also had no idea what was happening to them. I am sorry.

I...I do not have this fortitude that they possess.

Yes, these dogs were basically my children, but as an autistic person, they were so much more. Routine, structure, comfort & absolute unconditional love. They hugged, snuggled, & generally gave me a strong sense of purpose. Humans have never been touchy feel-y with me for the most part. Even when I so desperately wanted a hug. Dogs? Yeah, they know. They always know. Oswin wouldn't even let me cry. She would rush to my side & start licking tears & do something hilarious to make me laugh.

Leela. Leela was my heart. My soul dog. My adventure time buddy. She made me leave my comfort zone. She loved people. She loved walks. She loved everything & everyone. Except that Drake guy. She really did not like him.

They howled every Saturday at the sirens test, until Leela stopped due to age. Oswin picked up the slack & put her whole body into it to make up for the lack of Leela's strong voice. It was adorable.

An now...they are just gone. Poof! Just like that. My babies are gone.

I feel like I am carrying chains. Chains on my arms & chains on my legs. It's the weirdest sensation. Every time I stand up. There is a weight. Weights. I can't shake them.

I can't stop crying.

I'm still struggling to eat.

I've woken up in the night with panic attacks.

My anxiety is through the roof. 

Got some slight paranoia creeping in.

Insomnia.

Weird body aches & pains.

Cramps? Despite being menopausal.

My guts are a wreck.

I have zero motivation at work.

I don't even know what happened today. I went to work, I came home, I'm typing, I will probably go to bed by 9.

Coming home is the worst. Waking up is horrible. Dinner is terrible. Going outside is awful, being inside is just as awful. I want to move away from every one & every body I have ever known & live in a hobbit house in the forest alone until I die.

Leela was 17 & a quarter. Oswin was almost 13. I'm really struggling with Oswin. She was soooooo alive. Except she wasn't. Her kidney's were shutting down. The Cushing's disease was catching up. There was nothing we could do to stop it. Leela, my sweet, sweet Leela. She had just stopped. Stop waking up. Stopped eating. Stopped being part of the group.  Stopped absorbing her food properly when she did eat & lost control of her bowels. She was an easy decision. Well, lol, easier. Nothing about any of this was easy.

I called Oswin, Junior. She was born 4 days before me. Different years (Of course). She was my Junior Scorpio. I called Leela, Boo. Before Boo became a widely used word to mean someone you deeply care about. I called her Boo because we got her right before Halloween & she had coloring that sort of looked like a mask but she really ended up being my boo. My bestie. I would've died for her. I will never love another dog like I loved that dog. 

But I will love other dogs. Deeply.

I didn't expect to love Oswin as deeply. We had a rough start. She was 3 hours from being put down in the pen. She was saved by a rescue but bounced around quite a bit her first year of life  & from what we could tell, had been abused by a male. She really hated men.  Especially a certain type of male. And she wasn't keen on me at first, either. We were a little worried she wasn't going to work out that first year.

When T had her motorcycle accident, that little pup did such an excellent job of taking care of me & her sister. We bonded. And when T came home, she was fiercely protective of her Mom. She wouldn't let anyone near her Mom's leg. She made sure it was going to heal. She adjusted to the wheelchair & the walker &  everything that changed, so well. 

And now. They're gone.

I don't believe in an afterlife.

That's part of what makes this so hard. 

They're gone. That's it. The end. They lived, they loved, they died. 

I am still here. Alone. 

This grief has brought out interesting theories for me. It's very obvious now, why humans created gods. An afterlife of any sort. The reality that there is simply nothing after is an extremely heavy & impossible thing to deal with for a creature with such a strong sense of self. To know, or at least believe that when I die I cease in every aspect of who I am, was or would ever be. It just stops.  

It's hard.

I will never see them again. That was it. 

I knew that going in. I didn't know I would fall so deeply in love with them both. 

I understand now, that people do not recover from grief. They just move forward. One step at a time. 

Even if they believe in some sort of afterlife, very few people have NO doubts. 

I've only ever know one person who believed so strongly that when they're father passed they were not the least bit sad.

Honestly, it was fucking creepy. LOL.

So, yeah, this post is part of me dealing with this grief. 

Talking about it out loud. For me.

Maybe it helps you. Maybe it makes things worse & you get angry at this post. 

That's okay. Anger is part of grief, too.

If I'm wrong & there is something after, I am popping that son of a bitch right in the mouth.

Of course, the minute I see my babies, I'll forget about this anger.

Man, I hope I'm wrong. 

Hug your fur babies for me tonight, will ya?

Love them with all your might.

Nothing deserves it more. Dogs are a gift.

I can't wait to meet my new baby.

See who she is. What wonders she discovers. Will she howl at the sirens, too? Will she play ball in the hall on rainy days & drag me out of the house for walks every sunny day & eat snowballs & chase grasshoppers? I don't know. Maybe she'll do something completely unexpected & wonderful.

And that's the only thing getting me through right now. 

Hope.

Hope of a new life, with a new pup & new adventures. 

Until then, I guess I just have to keep trying. Because Leela & Oswin would want me to. I can't let them down. Even if they are nothing more than star stuff now.

I love you guys. 

I miss you immensely. 

I always will.