The day we said goodbye

When your body grew weak, when your legs no longer could hold you up, the creator gave you wings. He held you in his arms and took away your pain. And while I’m grateful you are no longer suffering, I miss you everyday. 

A year ago I lost my best friend. My sassy little dog who had no problem laying snuggled into my arm all day, or being carried all around the city. She was, talking about her in past tense is still so strange, my security, my diary, my distraction from the pain that burned inside of me. She was such a a character and knew exactly how to get me out of my head when my depression weighed heavy on my soul. I can’t even count the number of times she saved me from killing my self. She was my baby. 

I still can’t believe it’s been a year, the pain is so fresh. I hope your free of pain Jayda, I love you and i miss you 


July 18 2015 – One year ago


I’m writing this early ’cause come monday I’ll be to emotional.

12 months ago.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

Waking up, feeling a sense of uneasiness. But that was nothing new once we knew the day was rapidly approaching.

I remember missing a phone call from my mom and panic stirred in my mind and body. I remember shaking trying to get a hold of her, only to be answered by a shaky, tear filled voice, telling me “Dad died”. My strong and resilient dad’s heart stopped beating. I remember, vaguely, hanging up the phone and dropping to the couch. Unable to really comprehend what I just heard. I picked up my phone, unsure of what to do. Unsure if I should call work or just go in, unsure if i should call or text that my dad died, unsure if I should let people know. Unsure because it didn’t feel real.

I’ve learned that I cannot deal with death..

It didn’t feel when mom came home puffy eye’d from crying and I hugged her and it didn’t feel real when the funeral director sat in our living room talking about the cremation process. It didn’t feel real when I went to work and had a beautiful plant and card from my boss & co-workers.  It just didnt 1930894_29230184671_3854_n.jpgfeel like real life. It felt like a bad dream I’ve had 10,000 times and I couldnt allow myself to accept that is was real. I stayed in denial for a long time. It didnt hit me, or I suppose i didn’t deal with it until one day I realized it was true. I cant recall the exact moment, or what it was. It may have been the christmas music, or my 25th birthday or a combination of time and the seasons changing. But it hit me hard. He was gone, gone forever. I went from the girl with the dad that was sick, to a woman whose father had passed. My whole world changed in that moment and I become angry.

I was angry because my dad who never really drank or did drugs, my dad who loved his wife and his girls, who did anything possible to be a good person was handed a death sentence. His body betrayed him, God betrayed him. I was angry because his crack head brother was still alive and he wasnt. I was angry because my mom lost her husband and bestfriend, I was angry because we lost our dad. I was angry because if i ever have children they will never know their grandpa, just like I didnt. I was angry because people kept telling me they were sorry. I always wondered what “I’m sorry” was suppose to do, we say sorry to apologize for something, did you inject this awful disease into my dads body? Is it your fault? I never needed the generic answer and thats all I seemed to get.  I became angry because although it happened months ago, I was grieving the death of my dad and no one understood why I was still so emotional about it.  I felt alone. I mentally and emotionally broke and did things I am not proud of, things I’m still dealing with the consequences of. It took a long time for me to stop being angry, I still get angry about things, but after a long talk with my mom I was able to accept that his body is finally without pain. I cherished the good memories, the very few things we had in common. Jayda was one of _MG_0934them, the only thing I ever wanted was a small dog and he found one for me. And he loved her, and she loved him. She was my little piece of my dad and I was blessed to have her..

A month ago I lost Jayda and the grief I feel about losing her is 100 times the pain of losing my dad and I have no idea why. Perhaps because I was holding on to that little bit of my dad I had left, and now they’re both gone and I feel lost again.


Hey Dad.

How’s heaven? I bet its beautiful above the clouds, away from the pain and sorrow this awful world is experiencing. I hope your free from all the pain you felt, and that you are happy. We miss you, we miss having you here. 

I know I said it to you already, but I want to thank you for everything you did for all of us. I want to thank you for showing me what a real man should be. This year has been hell. Everything is different and my heart is so broken. Not only for me but for our entire family. 

I miss how things use to be, but right now, Im missing the little baby dog you gifted me. I hope you two have found each other, and shes sitting on your lap eating cookies off your shirt and chewing on your feet. I hope you guys are both healthy and happy, running around and working on cars. Jayda loves coffee so I hope your sharing with her! I miss you both so much, I dont know how to live without both of you. Please give my guidance daddy. Please help me overcome this. 

I Love you, I miss you and I’ll see you when its my time to resign in heaven with you all. 




Goodbye my sweet girl

Rest In Peace Sweet Jaybug.

You have been such a constant loving soul in our family. You taught us more about love, life and unconditional love then you ever knew. My sassy princess, my beautiful baby dog, I miss you more then I ever thought possible. Your attitude, your bark, your little img_4332“tough” stance. I miss your snuggles and your adorable head tilt; I miss your gentle licks and your “give me attention” bark and scratching. I miss you so much and its only been a day.

On June 8th 2016 you went to be with God, Dad, buddy and beaner.

I can’t imagine what was going on in your tiny little body, what kind of pain you must of felt. I’ll never know if we could of saved you because your warrior soul wouldnt let you be weak. But I remember the day I knew I wouldnt ever see you “normal” again.

Sunday morning you got sick, a white foam all over the couch – which you NEVER have done before – that seemed to never stop. You wouldnt drink, you wouldnt eat. I went to work unaware of what the day would unfold. Mom said you werent doing well when she came to pick me up, her worried expression scared me beyond belief. My tiny baby, so small and fragile looked so dazed, so confused. I took you into the bathroom, thinking maybe you were just to hot, and cooled your tiny body down. I dried you off and kissed in between your ears, tried to  make you drink, and laid you down in your bed. Out of the corner of my eye I see you fall over on your side – Watching you have a seizure was the img_4337worse thing i’ve ever seen in my life. The rest of the night I worried about you, worried about if you would live through the night. At 2am I heard you having another seizure. Your lifeless body laid on the floor of your cage, your tongue hanging out of the side of your mouth. I begged for you to breath, to get better. I took you into the bathroom again, trying to calm you down; It didnt really work, your eyes were hazed over and you were zoned out looking at the door and then you had another seizure. I knew I couldnt be selfish anymore, I told you I would never leave you, because you never left me. I lightly patted you, I told you, you could go. I brought you out to the living room so you could lay on your bed, and laid there with you. All day monday you paced and circled, you didnt bark, you didnt eat, you couldnt walk or stand. I knew your body was tired. Late into the afternoon, right before 3pm, you laid down on the floor looking at the ceiling while I lightly patted your side. Your eyes slowly closed and your breathing labored, I was sure, again, that it was time. But you jumped up and “shook it off” and tried to hide behind the television. Mom came home and told you not to go, that you were to young and I saw – for a moment – your strong spirit glimmer in your eyes. You didnt have a single seizure all that night, you woke up and tilted your head when mom said good morning, you looked into your food dish like you wanted to eat and we knew we HAD to take you to the vet to try to fix whatever was ailing you. At the vet that night you had two more seizures, your kidneys and liver were in acute failure, your little body was infected with bacteria; Sepsis they say,  an infection of the blood, from what we’ll never know. We had to make the hard decision to end your suffering. You said goodbye to mom and slowly fell asleep before they even administered the medicine, and it dawned on me. All those times I thought you were gonna leave, you couldnt because you had to say goodbye to mom.

It feels like just yesterday that you were this tiny little puppy; who cried to be snuggled andimg_4333 was to scared to jump off the couch. My little tiny baby dog that dad knew I wanted so bad.
Your tiny little tail – or lack there of – that took your entire backside with it when you were happy in its wag. I can’t help but remember The way you slept on my dirty clothes when I wasn’t here, or how you would curl up in the corner of my single bed at night and sleep next to my head. You brought so much happiness into my life, and I hope you were happy too. Your snuggles cured even the deepest of hurt and I loved being greated by your “where have you been” bark. You are the best dog I could have ever asked for, your patient and you were so content sitting on my lap, in my purse or hidden in my jacket. You are such a beautiful dog, and I hate that you got this sick, I hate that I couldn’t help you, and I hate myself for that. I’m sorry jaybug.

I love you so much, Rest in sweet Peace.


So this is where we part, My Friend,
And you’ll run on, around the bend.
Gone from sight, but not from mind,
new pleasures there you’ll surely find.

I will go on; I’ll find the strength,
Life measures quality, not its length.
One long embrace before you leave,
Share one last look, before I grieve.

There are others, that much is true,
But they be they, and they aren’t you.
And I, fair, impartial, or so I thought,
Will remember well all you’ve taught.

Your place I’ll hold, you will be missed,
The fur I stroked, the nose I kissed.
And as you journey to your final rest,
Take with you this…I loved you best.