Thank You For Your Thoughts
Wow. I have to say I’m more than a bit overwhelmed. I haven’t been paying attention to much the last 28 hours other than the family member we were forced to say goodbye to yesterday.
I’ve been trying my best to read and respond to all the comments people left, and I inadvertently clicked on “Stats” instead of “Comments” this morning when I was going to approve a few comments that were awaiting moderation.
I’m literally blown away by the number of people who read my post from last night. I’m equally blown away by the comments that people have left, the wonderful stories you shared, and the words of comfort. I would hand my wife the phone each time a comment came in last night so she could read what folks were saying. They all lead to a mixture of smiles and tears.
I know that people appreciate the advice I share. I get e-mails, Tweets, phone calls, Facebook messages asking questions and thanking me for the time. It’s absolutely the best part of writing this blog. But, I didn’t expect the kind of support we’ve received over the last 12 hours (and boy, do we need it!). It’s incredibly comforting when friends share stories of losses they’ve suffered. But, I’m literally blown away by those of you that I’ve never had the opportunity to meet sharing such intimate stories, ones that I’m sure are equal parts happiness and pain to share.
I’ve written this blog for almost 8 years now. I took a year away from writing back in 2010 when I lost my Aunt Toni to cancer. A year later, I still had the desire to write, something I’ve always loved to do. I picked up the virtual pen and began blogging again. I remember the first day I had more than 100 views of a post. I celebrated like I had won the lottery. It was just so cool that people found what I wrote interesting. I really never thought about that part of writing. I just wrote.
My mind still hasn’t fully reengaged in the world of miles and points. Sure, there’s big news about the Starwood merger non-merger with Marriott. But, my heart’s not in it just yet. I’m sure that will come, whether it’s an hour, a day or a week from now. I hope you’ll stay tuned while our family does a bit more healing. Kids are resilient and I can already see the occasional smiles and laughter washing away some sadness from my daughter in between the tears.
I’ll be back with all of you soon, I promise. And, if I missed saying thank you to your individual story, please know that we’ve read them all and are touched beyond words. And, damn you all for making me cry again! 🙂
I was hunting for pictures of our dog this morning and stumbled across a post I wrote 7 years ago. Here’s some more of Serena from when she was a much younger pup.
I am so sorry. I am actually facing this decision as we speak and just waiting on a call from the vet so we can make the final call. I didn’t see your post yesterday, but I think by seeing this today, it’s maybe a sign that we too need to make a selfless decision no matter how badly it hurts. I wish you peace.
Gosh, Jessica. I’m so sorry to hear you’re waiting for that call. I can assure you that it will hurt and it’s certainly not an easy decision to make. Even given the freshness of our decision, I can’t pretend to understand yours. I wish you luck and only the best for your pet.
I was going to leave a comment yesterday, and then I figured you don’t even know me. But what you wrote impacted me so much that I kept thinking about it last night, and I felt I had to say something. I had always been a dog person. Then a stray kitten “adopted” me. I tried to make her leave, but she kept returning–to the point when I arrived home from work she was waiting near my parking spot–several days in a row. So, I invited her in, gave her a name, and she became mine. She had two litters before I had the sense to have her spayed; we kept a son and found good homes for all the others. Eventually, as we were living abroad, my husband and I brought Cindy and her son, Sean, back to the US with us; whoever says cats can’t be as friendly as dogs never knew ours. They were with us for well more than a decade. We had to make the same hideous decision you did with Cindy after she was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. We ended up crying for days. All I can add is that your pain will subside, but you will never, ever forget your wonderful Serena–and all the joy she brought to you and your family.