I did not think it would hurt this much.

Two months ago, I started a blog for/about our dog Sadie, just after we found out she had cancer. I was hopeful writing would be cathartic; I was particularly concerned how J would handle it and thought if nothing else, it would give her a chance to write happy things about our beloved dog.

As with a lot of things, J started out enthusiastically, but in time, she did not have much to say. Plus school got in the way. 

But I managed to write a good bit and post some good pics. I hope to continue it for awhile. 

But just 23.5 hours removed from Sadie's death, I am still devastated. I never would have guessed it would have affected me this way.

Sure, I'm a crier, but as been documented here, I cry for strange things. Not for my own wedding or birth of my child, but for strangers on TV. I definitely cry for tragic events (9/11, in particular), but I also cry when I see certain commercials. I did not cry when my aunt or Bri's grandfather died a few years ago, yet every year when I see Penn State THON canners canning, my eyes well up.

I was sure I would cry when Sadie went, and I have teared up a bit this weekend, particularly Sunday night. But I did not anticipate the gut-wrenching feelings that would ensue once she was gone. I got home last night and cried for almost an hour. It felt as if someone was sitting on my chest. I kept saying her name. It was unimaginable how much I had missed her. I would stop for a few minutes (TV was a good distraction), but start back up. J cried a bit, but God bless her, went back to studying for her math test. 

I spend the night at my mom's about once a month (it used to be every other week), and I would kiss Sadie good bye, but not necessarily miss her (though I always asked the hub about her when J and I would call to say good night). So how could it hurt so much so soon?

Probably 14 or more years ago, a coworker at my last job sent an email titled "Unspeakable Grief." In it she said her dog died. I thought the title was dramatic and profound, but I could not relate. Yet that title was burned into my memory, as I often wondered if I would someday feel a similar way.

So many years later, I know now just how she was feeling. Because I can't really speak about it. I don't want to talk about it. I can write about here, because no one will talk back to me as I write these words. I have yet to answer texts from well-meaning friends. 

And I cannot bring myself to get on Facebook, which is amazing for me. Sunday night I posted a funny pic of Sadie; a friend commented on it, asking how Sadie was doing, and I commented back that she was not well and that we were saying good bye the next day. Friends that happened to read that comment posted a lot of thoughtful and supportive comments, but I could not bring myself to acknowledge them. Maybe when I get into work, I will feel differently.

I so just want to stay home today and feel sorry for myself, but that will do no good. And thankfully I am busy at work, so hopefully that will help. But I dread walking in there. Because my coworkers know what was going to happen. And as soon as the first person says something, I am going to cry. And let me tell you, waterproof mascara apparently does not mean tear-proof. Or maybe you can cry only so much before it fails.

To anyone out there who has lost a pet and felt the heart-crushing loss, I now understand your pain.

And I so very much wish I did not.