Dear, Samson

(I want to share with you some personal things that happened this week. I want to share with you what I noticed, what I felt, and what I found helpful. This is heavy to write, so feel free to skip it if you’re not up for that.)

We, particularly my wife and I, have been experiencing grief this week. For the past several weeks, our beloved Great Dane, Samson, just hasn’t been doing well. My wife happened to be off Monday the 11^th, and I was able to leave early after rearranging things at work to be with her because we decided we were going to put Sam down.

First of all, that decision alone is huge. It’s heavy. It has its own feelings attached to it. I assure we probably experienced all of them. Sam would have been 12 on November 22. We’ve had him almost half our marriage because we turn 24 next month. He basically ate very little over the past several weeks. He seemed super weak, and he had more troubles than normal with his hips. Mentally, he wasn’t much different. His body was. My wife always called him “Bones,” and sadly, he lost so much weight that he began to live up to the nickname.

I knew it was going to be hard for her. She helped me putting my beloved cat down years ago when he had all kinds of issues, and he was really old (18ish?). Danes average about 8. The vet shared he had a Dane for about 7.5 years and expressed how fortunate we were.

And we were. Sam did one thing really, really well. He loved. Have a bad day? He loved. Fuss at him? Loved. Go for a ride? Loved. Road trip? Loved. Other animals? Loved. It’s been tough. It hit me much harder than I expected. I tend to have a peace about humans; I just do. We truly try to celebrate their lives. Sam is no different really.

Here are some things I noticed and how we dealt with these things. I hope you find help and comfort in them. I hope you find some hope, too, as you navigate life.

I noticed a deep regret and sadness filled with wishes. You know the kind? “I wish I would have ___.” “I’m sorry I didn’t ___.” Etc. Sam was forgiving. He forgave as easily as he loved honestly. I expressed my feelings to friends, shared with them what was going on, and sought their thoughts and prayers for dealing with it. It really helped. People expressed much kindness and love through calls, texts, checking on us. My wife and I shared some great memories, too. I say all of this to remind you that you do not have to be alone. Use your supports.

I noticed an emptiness. Sam was a big boy. He took up a lot of space. Every single time we walk through the living room, it’s different. He had his spot, and he’s not there. It’s like a hole in our lives and our hearts. Let’s look at the facts, though. We had Sam a very long time! What a blessing that is! That dog traveled more than 10,000 miles and did it splendidly. He loved eating snow and ate a lot of it. He loved to “Go.” We had to spell it and other words because he was pretty clever. He had the biggest, goofiest look sometimes when he wanted something. But, he communicated pretty well. He was also supremely stubborn. There were times he put the “donkey brakes on” and would not budge! He also helped me faceplant a time or two. And, he was sneaky. Don’t bring up stealing and eating an entire pumpkin roll. Yes, he counter-surfed as well as anybody. He got into the garbage and ate things, too. We paid several hundred dollars for an emergency x-ray at UTK Vet hospital after hours when we realized days later that he ate a sausage wrapper when he hurled it up. Despite those bones, he could cuddle. The best part of him were his super soft ears. We share in these stories. We’ve slightly rearranged our living room, and I know behaviorally-speaking, the more we do something, the less sting we tend to feel, or the easier it gets. Believe it or not, I’ve walked through the living room quite a bit, especially how we have rearranged it. I have a new routine in the evenings, too. It’s very different. These stories and things are ways to honor his memory, his legacy even.

My wife shared how he impacted her life in a major way. She befriended a person at our work long ago who ultimately gave us Samson. Sam has had his struggles over the past several years, and we felt like we had some close calls during those times enough to say goodbye even. One of those struggles helped her bond with a person at her current work. That person encouraged her to apply at her position. When she got that position, her boss encouraged her to go back to school. She graduated last December with her bachelor’s and is currently working on her master’s. She credits our big, goofy, loveable Great Dane, Samson. Stories like this help. In addition, Sam also farted as well as anybody, person or animal. Old man get up and stretch kinds of farts. Silent but deadly kinds of farts. Loud ones. Short ones. Long ones. Even till the end ones. I got a feeling he may still get blamed ones! As big as Sam was, he was so gentle. The only way he’d hurt anything or anyone is by accidentally stepping on them or wagging his tail and hitting you. He picked up kittens much like a mother would. My wife tells the story of how he separated two pups at the dog park who were scrapping and fussing. He picked one up and moved it. That was Sammie.

Whatever you’re dealing with, know you’re not alone. You have support. Somebody somewhere likely has gone through something similar. I often tell students who are interested in going into mental health, the struggles we have, I’ve found, are often used to help someone else go through something. You might just be that person for somebody else.

Tell stories. Find ways to help your memories. Write about it. As hard as this has been, it’s helpful. I have gotten used to writing early in the month. I have put this off. I didn’t know why at first, but it’s I now see that delay as necessary.

Don’t let someone belittle your pain. If that’s in your life, seek others. Your good friends will give you what you need.

It’s okay to hurt. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be mad. Regret might happen. Second-guessing might happen. Wishing might happen. Know you’re loved, and he was loved. If he could forgive me, I can forgive me. If he found something loveable about me, I can love me. Sam’s got me to thinking about all kinds of things this week. I know that decision was really hard. After being with him, I know it was right. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It does. It hurts a lot more than I expected. Sometimes when our expectations are unmet, we experience feelings, too. Notice them, name them, and move through them. Routines change; develop a new one. Keep doing it even when you don’t feel like it. Day by day, it gets a little bit easier. It stings a little less. Work your process.

Dear, Samson/Sammie/SamSam/Bones/Sausage/Sam/Buddy,

You were the best! I wish we gave you half of what you gave us. I miss your looks, your leans, your ears, your hops, your greetings, your trying to walk with three legs while you scratch with one. I just miss you, bud. I’m so grateful my wife talked me into you. I’m glad you were not a horse, which was her bargaining chip. I’m glad we got all that extra Sam time. Our home is different. Our routines are different. Our lives are different because of you. Thank you for loving us. You did it so well. We owe you thanks. You were the best, Good Boy. We miss you. We thank you. We love you.

Mom, Dad, and your brothers

#loss #grief #petloss #family #Jesus #sad #grateful #love #forgiveness #hope #support