A Cold Day in April

Just hanging on...

Soda never rallied. All night she slept so deeply I was checking to make sure she was alive. Today, she was completely washed out. Wherever I lay her, she stayed, not even changing positions. I don't know if there was pain, or just weakness, but she was going.

As a last test, I had mom and my brother Mikey stop by to see her. Seeing mom is typically enough to make Soda delirious with joy. Today, she could barely stand in the doorway to greet her. No happy growls holding her favorite toy. No tail wagging. Just tremendous fatigue.

I laid her on mom's chest and lap and Soda struggled to stay conscious as she sprawled across her. Normally she would pull her legs up under her and push her head under mom's chin, but she hadn't the strength. After an hour or so, all three of us joined in to give her a last bolus of fluids, each taking turns squeezing the bag to make them go faster. This gave her a small boost, but that was it.

As mom and Mikey took some things to the car, Soda struggled to her feet and stood on the back of the sofa to watch them. As she saw mom come back in, I got to see her last wag. I was ready, and I can share it with you.

After they left, I broke down and soaked her little head with tears. She barely moved. I watched her sleep, then we both fell asleep on the sofa for an hour or so. When I woke up, she was stretched up against the sofa back, watching me sleep. That was a little eerie.

After calling a friend for one last boost, I drove her into town. I had called ahead, and they were ready for us. One bad thing about already knowing the staff was that they were already in tears.

I insisted on holding Soda for the procedure. She never blinked; never questioned me. I had spent the last several hours telling her what she meant to me, and I could not speak as I watched the pink liquid enter her vein. The tech said softly, "Mama loves you." I almost snapped, "Don't you think I fucking told her that?" but held my tongue for once.

Immediately thereafter, I felt the life drain from Soda's body. Unexpectedly, it drained from mine, buckling my knees and leaving me to hold myself up on the table with my elbows. I was sobbing before she was gone, hard as I tried otherwise.

The doctor waited a few seconds as I sobbed with my head on her body, then checked for a heartbeat.

"Her heart has stopped," she confirmed.

"So has mine." I told her. Good job, now I made both of them cry.

Stating the obvious, I told them I would need a little time. They hustled out as fast as if someone had pulled the ring on a grenade, fairly tossing me a fresh box of Kleenex as they closed the door.

I was the only one in the clinic, thankfully, so only the three staff members had to hear me fall apart. I don't know how long I held her--long enough for her to soak my sweatshirt, but I didn't care. I had brought in the blanket that mom had sewn for Cocoa so many years ago, and decided to have her cremated with it. I chose not to bury her at my house since I always seem to move, and I promised her she'd be with me always. It's a promise I intend to keep.

I finally pulled my shit together and left my baby in the room, knowing I carried her heart and spirit with me. I went to the front desk. When the receptionist came out crying, I smiled and told her cheerfully, "Well, I think I handled that pretty well!"

Still have to make them laugh. The bill almost brought me to tears again, but it was primarily the cost of private cremation, which is steep. That was worth the money (as long as they don't lose her).

Again, I want to thank everyone for all the love and support: Mom, Dad, Sarah, Mikey, David, Kurt, Patty, Trish, Mo, C, Kathy, Linda, Sarah F., Sharon, and anyone else I might be forgetting. Those of you who loved her know how much she was worth. Cherish your memories. I know I will.

Letting go...

Breathe easy, sweet baby.