It’s with a heavy heart that my first blog back after a lengthy absence is to report that the Personal Pet Therapy Project came to an end on Thursday, July 3 when my mom (a.k.a. Grandma Dorothy to Murphy, Mr. Meow, and Tabby) passed away.
The Gift That Proved Significant
Since the last month has been pretty chaotic and filled with emotional upheaval, I wasn’t able to chronicle some stuff. Such as, that the little stuffed heart Tabby kept bringing my mom was a most significant gift indeed.
My mom’s last oncologist appointment on June 11 proved to be The Biggie. It was when we were given word the cancer drug hadn’t worked, we were being referred to hospice, and my mom had at best a month to live. On June 14 my mom suffered a series of mini-strokes and we had to have her taken to an in-patient hospice facility.
Prior to June 14, Tab was still dragging that heart all over to wherever my mom was, be it up in her room or down in the kitchen on her hospital bed. Since June 14, Tab hasn’t touched that heart. I happen to believe it’s because that heart was reserved for her Grandma Dorothy.
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The thing I found most interesting about all of this was the sort of love triangle that formed. While Murph was always on my mom’s mind, my mom was always on Tab’s mind.
After my mom was in the hospice and her room was empty, Tab still went in there and lay on the bed in the spot next to where she always snuggled by my mom. Other times she’d sprawl out in the hallway facing my mom’s room looking completely forlorn and miserable. Sometimes at night she’s taken to mewling the most disparaging yowl…as if her heart’s completely broken.
But instead of asking about Tab while she was in the hospice, it was Murph my mom always wanted to know about. And to see.
Mr. Meow remained faithfully devoted to me the entire time…but he did enjoy acting up and chasing Tab and getting my mom to laugh at his mischief. When she left for the hospice it was clear he missed not having anyone to show off for.
Farewell Sweet Mom-O, Mamma Llama
Your time in our house was short, but sweet. We loved having you, and miss you dearly now that you’re gone. But you brought us a richness we wouldn’t have had otherwise. We hope we brought you the same. Rest in peace. You’re home now.
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