This is completely and utterly a depressing post. Please don't read if you don't want to be struck with sadness.
I just found out today...that my beloved Master, best friend, big brother figure, and idol, has died.
The original link to the news: www.furaffinity.net/journal/73…
Death has never been a very good thing for me. I don't think I've ever reacted in a less of a way to death.
When I lost my great-grandma 17 years ago, I grew very scared and kept trying to ask everyone where she had gone. To the point I broke down and started to cry and go into her room, onto her bed and just weep there. They never said she "died", but I had dreams of her, and that's when I realized she was gone.
When I lost my great-grandpa 8 or so years ago, I was struck down with complete and utter grief and mourning. I had just gone to the nursing home he was living at after he got out of the hospital for having a severe heart attack. I tried to play with him and make him smile, but everyone said I was being too rough. That I needed to take it easy with him. The night we left, we left because I got bored after trying to play with great-grandpa. My grandparents dropped me off half way with my mother to head home, and we got the call; Great-Grandpa was dead. So we turned around and we headed back to the nursing home to see the truth. When I saw him, I felt so disgusted with myself.
I felt like I was the cause of his death.
Even to this day, I still believe I caused his death. I feel like had I not been so rough with him, had I just been easy and soft and comforting to him, he would've lived longer. He was a strong man. And to see him gone, really caused a lot of panic episodes, and sudden breakdowns when I was in class. I would literally have to get out of class, struggle downstairs with a teacher holding my hand, and go to the nurse. Today, sometimes I go through -- in my deep depressive states -- and remember his face. And feeling guilty of his death. To where I cry until I'm on the verge of lightheadedness and being nauseous to my stomach.
When I lost my cat, Billie, two months after great-grandpa died, I couldn't do it. I started to fall really really really hard. My grades depleted, my motivation depleted, and my sanity started to go down. The night we had to put her down, I begged my mother to let me hold her as they would euthanize her. She refuses and pulled me away from her as the nurses took her in to put her down. I started to thrash and wail, before falling to the ground in a complete heap of tears and a person now having new suffering of the lost of her cat. My mother told me to stop, that I was acting foolish, when I was really having another breakdown. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see properly, I started to choke on my own breath, and the vet nurses raced over to hold me and try to get me to breathe again. I knew they didn't know what to do with me because I was a human, but their arms around me was enough from me going into a full on shock episode. My cat was 19 years old when she died. I understand she was going to pass sooner or later, but I anticipated another two years minimum with her living because she was so active.
I begged my mother to give me the ashes of her. It would bring me peace to know she was out of pain, but a part of her was still with me outside of my scarred heart.
My mother refused to let me have her ashes.
When I lost my other cat, Todd, 3 years ago, it was on my 16th birthday. He was starting to throw up blood, barely breathing, and was coughing on his own air. We rushed him to the vet emergency room, and he was dying on us. I was given the quick choice to go in holding him so that he was not panicking, and that I would know he passed on in my arms, or I could say outside.
I wanted to go in. My mother yelled at me and forced me to stay outside.
He was 11 years old. They told us his kidneys had failed on him, and he was reacting to it. I asked for his ashes, despite them being nearly $200.
My mother refused to let me have his ashes.
His passing was painful, because it was my birthday and he had been sleeping with me before he started to throw up. I watched him die, and I had nightmares for weeks after on it. That same day, I woke up throwing up, had to be rushed to the hospital, and suffered another breakdown.
Three months prior to him, my cat Amy had to be put down unexpectedly, due to the doctor discovering she had massive tumors all over her lungs, stomach, and kidneys. She was 8 years old. I cried for three days after her death.
When my great-aunt died a year ago, it made me realize how fragile a human life was. She suffered 4 years of eventual terminal blood cancer. It was something that no doctor had the full cure for. They could only prolong the inevitable. She went through 4 years of chemo, therapy, and other transitions to prolong and try to get rid of the cancer. Upon her death, I did not feel as upset as with the other deaths, but I still cried hard. Mainly because I was sad that her hopes were dashed despite everything she struggled through.
And because my grandma, her younger sister, was suffering because of it.
There were days I would go to the house and see my grandma just sitting in the living room. Grandpa wouldn't be around, she would just be sitting there. The first time she did it, I raced over, fearing she was not breathing (because she had her eyes closed and her head laid down). But after seeing the pain in her eyes, I pulled her into a hug, and she just let it all out. Her pain was my pain, and thus I would cry too. She and her sister were very close, considering their mother was never close to them. During those rough times, I would take her to the graveyard our loved ones were buried, and she would tell me stories -- happy or sad -- of her family members. Later on, she thanked me, because it helped her become peaceful of her sister's death.
But this....this death...of my Master. It's something I'm having a hard time wrapping around my head. I've almost broken down a few times already...
I knew his health was declining, and that he had to go to the hospital several times. I tried to be hopeful for him during those times. I always believed there would be enough time for him to get a transplant, that he would get better. That he would get better.
But, he didn't.
He was the most sincere, compassionate, funny, and loving friend I could've asked for on the internet. I had hopes and even was going to start saving this summer to go down and see him. I wanted to see his face, I wanted to hug him, I wanted him to know I was there for him. I was at almost every single stream he did. Times where I would voice call him and laugh my head off at his little antics. Hearing him laugh would make me laugh or smile too.
I met Puppy...I think 4 years ago? I think it's about 6 now. I could be wrong. I had been just searching on Livestream for an artist to watch while I did my own art in class. Sure enough, I saw his name, and a pic of him doing a character and bounced in. I listened to him talk and laugh with his friends, and started to converse with him on the chat box a few streams later. Slowly but surely, I grew comfortable around him, and would make jokes, laugh at things he said, and started to feel a friendship to him. Days when I was down, he would ask what was wrong. And just hearing him say "aww I hope your day gets better, sweetie" in a genuine and kind voice, brought happiness to me. It wasn't long after that that I started to go into calls with him, and was on more and more of his streams. I loved his art. I loved him.
Puppy was someone no one can replace or begin to match up to.
He had his struggles yes, but even then, he still went forward. I loved him for that. I loved him for himself. He was so great. Even when I became his kitten, he was still great. Amazing even. He would never think of himself as such, but I always thought of him as it.
Puppy, wherever you are now, please know that I will forever love you. You are still a part of my heart. And always will be until I, too, pass. I hope you have found your complete peace, and that perhaps when my time comes, we will meet again. I miss you terribly already. I wish the words "come back please" could work, but they don't. This is a bittersweet moment; you are gone, but you are free of the pain now.
Rest in peace, my beloved Master.
As to for now...I need time to mourn. I need time for this. I've called my teachers and reported that I am not going to be in today for class. I need to go home before I cry hard and unexpectedly here at school. I feel very sick to my stomach and feel bile in my throat. I think I may throw up later on today, I'm not sure. But I need to go home.
Tonight, there will be a mourning tribute stream to Puppy. I'll give a link when the time comes.
For now, I ask you all for one thing; please go to the person you love in your life. It can be anyone, it could be someone online, it could be someone at home, I don't mind whom. Tell them you love them and give them a hug. Be there for them. Just like how me and everyone who was a friend to Puppy was there for him.
Until next time...bye.