- - -
a coma might feel better than this
I don't think I'm a bad person, and I really don't think I deserved this. I don't actually believe in the universe in the sense of fate or destiny, but fuck.
I think I might be in shock. I feel numb and really fucking empty. I have nothing.
People keep offering comfort. So many people have reached out to me, and I do appreciate it. I really do. But I can't keep telling them "I'm okay" or "I'm not okay" (depending on what mood I'm in at the moment that they ask) over and over again. I can't tell if I want a shoulder to cry on or if I just want to be alone. So, I take the usual route of being alone. I don't like involving other people in my emotions, and this is extremely personal to me. Other people have lost pets. Hell, other people have lost parents. But nobody felt the love that I felt for him. They can sympathize or even empathize, but I think I just need to cope with this alone.
I think for once in my life, I am actually traumatized because I. Can't. Stop. Picturing. It. I can't stop replaying it in my head. I can still hear the noise of the impact.
And I know that these things happen. I know I will get better with time. But I'm not better now, and I won't be for awhile. I don't want time to hurry up; I don't even want it to move forward. I want it to go backwards.
I have been halfway joking lately that "my life is in shambles" as an excuse for silly things I was doing. But now I'm an actual mess, and nothing really matters anymore.
- - -
That day, I found a home for Jimmy. It's a GREAT home too. He's a happy puppy now, and his new owners are hopefully happy puppy-owners. I was so happy about it! This song was literally playing in my head all morning:
I was so over the moon that I decided to go see my own puppy. When I got to my dad's, I let Buckley out of the pen, and he ran around the property to get his pent-up energy out. He periodically ran up to me to check up. He disappeared for a minute, and I knew he was just out exploring and running around. I went to retrieve something from my dad's vehicle, and when I was out there, I yelled for Buckley just to see where he was. When I made it back to the porch, I heard a crash. And when I looked out the window, I saw his body lying in the street. I ran out to the street while my dad yelled at me to get out of the road because cars were coming. They stopped for me though... Cars stopped on either side of the road and watched me carry Buckley to the side of the road. He was already dead. I sat on the side of the road with him and cried. A man in one of the stopped vehicles rolled down his window and asked if he was alright. Through tears, I said "no." The man asked if the car who hit him had stopped, I said "No. They never do." The man said, "I'm so sorry, honey." And drove away.
The person who hit him did actually turn around and come back. My dad carried Buckley's body across the street back to our property. A woman got out of the passenger side of the car and said that her grandmother was driving and couldn't stop. I mean, I understand... The speed limit is 50mph on that street and there was a car behind her and a car coming from the other direction. When Buckley ran out into the street (responding to my call), the woman couldn't stop OR swerve because it would cause an accident. The woman who got out of the passenger side hugged me because I was crying and said sorry. She did this twice before they left. Family-friend Keith showed up as soon as they left. We told him what happened, and he and Dad buried Buckley while I just watched. I didn't know what to do with myself.
And this played in my head the rest of the day:
The good news: he didn't suffer. When he got hit, he didn't so much as yelp. He died instantly.
The bad news: it was the worst day of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment