Spring Isn’t All Sunshine And Flowers For Me

Like most of us I am enjoying the change from cold and wet to warm and sunny.  

Spring breezes and spring sunshine usher in fresh beauty and speak hope to a heart.  It reminds me that the earth will not always be locked in darkness nor be a frozen wasteland.  

But spring isn’t all sunshine and flowers for me.  

It’s death and dying and tears and heart wrenching reminders that no matter how hard we try to hold onto life in THIS life, we can’t.

Right now I’m holding my dying cat.  He’s been a faithful companion for thirteen years. 

I’ve had many, many wonderful animals in my life but none have come close to being the constant shadow and empathetic friend that Roosevelt is.  His warm body snuggled into my arms like an infant every morning has been a touchstone that kept me from floating away in grief’s inviting fog.

I will miss him.  

Death is awful. 

death matters lewis

I do not equate Roosevelt’s death with Dominic’s.  There isn’t a scale conceivable that would measure the distance between the two.

But one of the things I’m learning in this Valley is that every death taps the same wound.  Every death hurts my heart.  Every death reminds me that this life is not as it ought to be, not as God intended it to be when He placed Adam and Eve in the Garden.

how terrible it is to love something that death can touch

And every death reminds me that Christ came, Christ suffered, Christ conquered precisely BECAUSE death. is. awful.

Resurrection is coming.  

But it is not yet.  

So I wait.  

In hope.  

Clinging to the promises.  

❤

life is eternal and death a horizon

 

**My faithful companion died in my arms- peacefully and without pain. ***

Author: Melanie

I am a shepherd, wife and mother of four amazing children, three that walk the earth with me and one who lives with Jesus. This is a record of my grief journey and a look into the life I didn't choose. If you are interested in joining a community of bereaved parents leaning on the promises of God in Christ, please like the public Facebook page, "Heartache and Hope: Life After Losing a Child" and join the conversation.

13 thoughts on “Spring Isn’t All Sunshine And Flowers For Me”

  1. Pingback: Animal Therapy: Meet Tilly – thelifeididntchoose

  2. We lost our dog Boomer 5 yrs after my son’s death. He was always Jason’s dog in my mind. I now have my daughter’s dog Sadie since we lost our daughter Bridgette 4 yrs ago. When she got her I didn’t think it was a good idea because of the expense. She was living on her own for the first time, and money was tight. She got her anyway and I look now at what a blessing this little dog is for us. We love her and so many other people do too. I will do my best to take care of and spoil her as long as possible. She somehow links me to my daughter, knowing how much she loved her, and I love them both.

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  3. I’m so sorry about Roosevelt Melanie. Animals are a gift and sense so much about what is going on around us. God made them so special. And they comfort us. We lost my beloved kitty Waldo, the day after what would have been my son Blake’s 31st birthday on Sept 27, 2017. Blake loved Waldo, and he, Blake. They grew up together.
    When people came to our house right after blake was killed, Waldo would make sure to be in the living room with everyone. It’s almost as if he knew. Waldo was 19 years and 5 months old when he died. I miss him and Blake every.single.day.

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  5. Oh Melanie, I’m so sorry about Roosevelt. I echo allysonedwards words. To face yet another death, another loss of that connection to our missing children is awful. Our Rachel left her cat Bella for us to care for in addition to our other cats. Bella has agreed since Rachel’s leaving, she is this, and she sleeps so much these days. I dread the day of her passing. Another echo.

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  6. I am so sorry. I don’t know you and I don’t know your dear Roosevelt, and yet I cried at the end of your post . . . I so felt that pain. And your love. Your words touch me like no others and I cling to your messages. I too have a 13-year-old doggie on the decline. My husband and I are caring for her and loving her but are dreading when she goes. Because she is a bit of the last of our “Lives before Loss” so to speak. We’ve suffered other loss . . . our parents, my husband’s brother. But the loss of our son and only child far outreaches the other pain and trauma combined. And when we lose our dog, we anticipate it will feel like losing one more connection, one more part of the past, associated with our son Dylan. I know your son Dominic also experienced Roosevelt in his life, so perhaps you felt the loss of that bit of connection as well.

    Life and death is hard and can break us. We can choose to put the broken pieces back together and know the scars from our brokenness make us stronger. My scars show me a different side of myself I didn’t know was there before. And your daily inspiration urges me to work harder and strive for better.

    Bless you today and your kitty in heaven. Thank you for writing about dealing with “one more touch of death.” 💜

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    1. Your words are so kind and encouraging! Thank you so, so much for taking time to comment. May the Lord continue to strengthen you each day and help your heart hold onto hope. ❤

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  9. Oh dear Melanie,
    Roosevelt’s dying will still be a terrible sting for you and I am sorry. It’s a funny old thing how cats are so knowing isn’t it? He’s been such a comfort for you and he will have been in turn comforted by you as he settled finally in your arms.
    Much love C ❤

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