How does one cope with death?
- Thread starter nterror
- Start date
zeturi
DEMON PIE!
Both of my dogs died today, and my reaction was odd.
Started out, early in the morning my mom calls me to let me know that some idiot left the gate open and my two dogs are loose in the neighborhood. I fly over to her house, and try searching around for my dogs a couple of miles around her house, and I can't find them. I figure, it's still very early in the morning, so they're probably hiding in some bushes and sleeping. So I decide to take off to go to work.
I almost drove past them at first, but then I realized what I saw. I flip my car around and pull over, and stand next to their bodies. One of them was torn in half vertically, guts and bones lying everywhere. The other had cracked it's head against the divider and bled to death. It was obvious someone had hit them while driving in the fast lane. When I first saw them, I screamed and cried for a moment. Almost immediately after, I shut down completely and went into efficiency mode.
I stopped by my nearest hardware store and picked up some black garbage bags, a set of gloves and a scraper. I flew back to the scene and proceeded to pick up their bodies. Including all the guts, bones and other unidentifiables. I took off their collars and set them in a separate bag. I took them back to my mom's house, and started tearing a hole in the ground with a shovel. I picked their favorite spot in the yard.
The dirt was easy to take up, till I hit the spot where all the roots were. They belonged to a big tree that was about three feet from where I had begun to dig. I tore them all to Heck to empty the spot, because I wanted my dogs to have their favorite spot when I buried them. About an hour later, I had a large, three-foot-deep hole in the ground. I buried them, covered the spot with some cinder blocks, and left a bone for each of them on top of their grave.
I went back inside, washed my hands, and went to work. At work, most people didn't seem to notice a difference in me. I left work, and met up with my siblings to let them know what had happened to my dogs. They cried for a long time, but I didn't. I miss them, but I've stopped crying completely. I loved those dogs like they were my own children. But I won't cry for them.
I guess the way I handle death is I just keep busy, and try not to think about it. Once I've let the idea settle in and let it become more "real," it becomes less painful to me.
Started out, early in the morning my mom calls me to let me know that some idiot left the gate open and my two dogs are loose in the neighborhood. I fly over to her house, and try searching around for my dogs a couple of miles around her house, and I can't find them. I figure, it's still very early in the morning, so they're probably hiding in some bushes and sleeping. So I decide to take off to go to work.
I almost drove past them at first, but then I realized what I saw. I flip my car around and pull over, and stand next to their bodies. One of them was torn in half vertically, guts and bones lying everywhere. The other had cracked it's head against the divider and bled to death. It was obvious someone had hit them while driving in the fast lane. When I first saw them, I screamed and cried for a moment. Almost immediately after, I shut down completely and went into efficiency mode.
I stopped by my nearest hardware store and picked up some black garbage bags, a set of gloves and a scraper. I flew back to the scene and proceeded to pick up their bodies. Including all the guts, bones and other unidentifiables. I took off their collars and set them in a separate bag. I took them back to my mom's house, and started tearing a hole in the ground with a shovel. I picked their favorite spot in the yard.
The dirt was easy to take up, till I hit the spot where all the roots were. They belonged to a big tree that was about three feet from where I had begun to dig. I tore them all to Heck to empty the spot, because I wanted my dogs to have their favorite spot when I buried them. About an hour later, I had a large, three-foot-deep hole in the ground. I buried them, covered the spot with some cinder blocks, and left a bone for each of them on top of their grave.
I went back inside, washed my hands, and went to work. At work, most people didn't seem to notice a difference in me. I left work, and met up with my siblings to let them know what had happened to my dogs. They cried for a long time, but I didn't. I miss them, but I've stopped crying completely. I loved those dogs like they were my own children. But I won't cry for them.
I guess the way I handle death is I just keep busy, and try not to think about it. Once I've let the idea settle in and let it become more "real," it becomes less painful to me.
ShockSlayer
Probably SS
My heart goes out to you Zet, I couldn't imagine losing my dogs. 
zeturi
DEMON PIE!
Thanks for the condolences SS. It's still hard to get that picture of them out of my head. It makes me feel like they suffered as they died. They were faced away from traffic though, so I imagine that they died instantly. I wasn't able to handle it at first, but after I buried them I felt a bit better about it.
