Coping With Loss
November 11, 2018
"The darkest part of the night is just before sunrise." This is one of the quotes my dad tells me very often, especially during my down times. The reason I haven't been posting these past months is - aside from being busy with work - because I have been dealing with perhaps the greatest loss of my life so far.
As much as I don't want to recall that painful night, Marion passed and crossed the rainbow bridge on September 12, 2018, five days before his 9th birthday and three days before mine. Until now, I still cannot process how it all happened. I was at an event for work that night when my mom called me telling me that I have to come home since he was not looking any better. He was already sick for a few days due to pain in his legs from arthritis. I left in the middle of my event and unfortunately, I never got to say good bye to my best friend.
It feels so long ago already, but as I look back, it's only been two months tomorrow. I guess that's how it feels to grieve. A lot of people may be thinking that I'm overreacting but fellow pet owners understand. I've been taking a lot of time for myself these past two months as my depression has somehow relapsed because of what happened. Marion was my number one therapy for whenever I have my attacks, and now that he was gone, I had no one to comfort me whenever I needed it. Oreo of course is still here but he has a different personality from Marion - he's sweet and lovable but also very playful. Marion in contrast was very cuddly and didn't mind me burying my face in his fur whenever I feel an attack coming.
Now nearly two months later, I still feel the emptiness that Marion's passing left behind. I'd like to believe he has happily crossed the rainbow bridge. I took this photo of his resting paradise back in September when we visited him for the first time since my dad buried him in the garden of our rest house in Tagaytay that very evening he passed.
This is also my favorite photo of Oreo visiting the place of his big brother, as if he knew that Marion was there.
And this beautiful photo of a streak of rainbow light over the flowers on Marion's place. This was the moment that I understood: Marion has crossed the rainbow bridge and was happy, free from the pain. Call me crazy, but I strongly believe it was his sign that he is at peace and that I should stop crying and start picking myself up (which of course doesn't happen overnight). I treasure these photos so much, particularly this one, because of how honest and real it feels to me.
I would like to very much keep the memory of Marion alive. All over our house, in every corner, there is a reminder of him - whether a photo, a stuffed toy or any of his things. One of the memorabilia in the house is a poem shared to us by one of the lovely members of a rabbit owners support group.
I will always be grateful to him for teaching me to get through even my darkest moments, but little did I know that he was preparing me for the worst of all, when it was time for him to leave. As I write this post, I start to feel both sadness and serenity, still remembering Marion and how much he left an impact on my and my family's life.
I guess I'm writing this simply because I want to keep Marion's memory alive and going. Strangely enough, I guess he wanted to keep it going too because a few weeks ago, a friend of my mom's called telling us that she is offering a rabbit for adoption. Yesterday to our surprise, the bunny was on its way to us, and guess what? He's grey too! We named him Willow.
This was already the second offer to us for adopting another rabbit. The first one was towards the end of September and I was clearly still not ready then so I politely (and heartbreakingly so) declined and offered to help them up for adoption with others instead. This time I was about to honestly not take Willow in for the same reason, but look at the poor guy. He looks so malnourished and frail that my mom could not bear to not take him in. I had been crying when he arrived because 1) of his resemblance to Marion due to the color, 2) Oreo was not the most welcoming host, and 3) I just wasn't sure if I was ready to have another bunny.
But here we are I guess. I guess I have no choice but to move on, but moving on doesn't exactly mean forgetting. For me, I would like to think of it as the sunrise almost upon me, but not quite. Perhaps later on I will be able to find the courage to face the sunrise. For now, I have no option but to be patient with myself first, hoping that also my loved ones would be the same.
I miss you, Marion. Very very much. Wherever you are, I wish I could embrace you one last time. Help me get through the sunrise.
♥, Murgaloo
Stock images via Unsplash
0 comments