One Year Ally

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Dear Ally,

It's been one year tomorrow.

I thought by now I'd be able to write to you and tell you about all the wonderful things I've done in your memory. Truthfully, since I've lost you, I haven't done much, but think about you with every breath I take and every goal I reach for, and not for the better. Not even for the happy. I cry every time.

The only difference I've felt in the last year since your absence is that I have become better at holding back the tears until I'm alone so others don't see how much I have not been able to move on. It's the guilt that binds me to your nonexistence and the pain that holds me here.

I've went through all of the stages, Ally.

Denial.

Your decline came on so suddenly. One month you were fine, the next a little sick, and the next gone. You tried so hard and I refused to see that you were dying. Maybe it was the way you looked at me still, or the way you'd still bark at a new person who all of a sudden entered the room, and the way you still showed excitement for a new toy. It all made me have hope and deny the idea that you were dying or saying goodbye.

But I see now, Ally. I see that those tail wags were less enthusiastic, and the stare was more so to make sure I was there for you and hadn't left your side. I see now that your bark was faint and your excitement was as tiresome as your movement. So when you had to go and I had to let you go, I was angry.

Anger.

I wasn't angry at you, Ally. I was angry at fate, destiny, and angry with God. How could he or she or it, let something so meaningful slip away so quickly. One moment you were a survivor and the next you were dead. There was no gradual decline in my eyes at the time, it just felt sudden.

So I was angry for the lack of warning. Angry that I didn't see it. Angry that I didn't ask more questions sooner or become more involved in your care. I was angry of the lack of education I had on the subject of cancer. I was angry that I trusted people with your life and they could have done more to watch for this return. I was also angry at myself for falling into a financial crisis and not being able to care for you around the clock and monitor everything to make sure it never returned. If only I wasn't disabled, I might have been able to provide you the best care and prolonged your beautiful existence. I was angry that I couldn't trade your life for mine.

Bargaining.

I would have given anything to know you would have had even a few more years to enjoy, even if it meant giving my life up for yours. I have always felt that animals deserve so much better than the humans who surround them. Not the ones who love them, but the ones who hurt them. We've taken a beautiful world and turned into a travesty. You were my beauty in an almost failed world.

I would have traded anything just to see you one more time. I didn't care what it would have taken to be able to kiss you and run my hands through your fur. It was depressing me more and more every day.

Depression.

I hit rock bottom mentally, physically, and emotionally. Losing you was so hard and so debilitating. I felt like the weight of our world rested on my shoulders and I couldn't move, couldn't speak. My depression manifested as my physical pain. I was hurt so much emotionally that my body was also hurt so much physically. That weight I have been carrying around was the guilt that I hadn't been able to do more for you and I have to stop blaming myself for something out of my control.

It was because I missed you so much and I couldn't change it. You weren't coming back. I spent most of the last year in this stage. I have to finally accept that you are not here. You aren't coming back and I did everything in my power that I believed was right for you.

Acceptance.

I accept that I'm not perfect, that life isn't perfect, and I did everything I could. You see, it wasn't about life being perfect that made us the greatest story I've ever told, Ally. It was all the truly meaningful and beautiful memories and moments we had that made our story Perfect. You were my perfect.. and for that I'm so grateful.

Our story doesn't end here, Ally. I was sent a little Yorkie Angel, named Osito, and I truly believe that through him, and because of you, I am ready to heal. He deserves all of me, the way I gave all of me to you. I know you'd want that.

For now Ally, I'll have to stop doing the things that bring me pain. I'll have to pause my Letters to you until I am ready to write the part of our story with those perfect memories and moments that inspired over 5,000 people to continue to read our story.

This is not goodbye, Ally. This is, I'll see you later.

I absolutely love you to the moon and back. Always and forever.

Love Always,

Mom

To all of our followers, thank you for following our journey, supporting us when we needed it with every prayer, share, or monetary transaction. You'll never know how much you mean to us. The Letters to Ally book with my favorite letters from the last year and photos will be available soon. More info will be on our website and Patreon. Especially promo codes to save money. Please visit the links in our comments section here for the locations to subscribe to our newsletter and Patreon.

Have a great day and remember, we love you to the moon and back, always and forever.

Love,

Christina