I think I'm feeling better now. I've stopped ruminating over memories of Bruiser. I'm back to work and haven't thought about him as much. I also can look at his corner, his things, without feeling guilt or pain or grief. It's a lot faster than I thought it would take.
I'm guessing it's because I'm not as close to Bru but also because I really gave myself the time to grief, before, during and after. I let all my feelings out, and wrote, and cried my heart out. I've been crying for Bru for probably a few weeks now, as I saw him suffering, when he stopped responding to us, stopped enjoying all the happy things he used to enjoy. I cried because I was helpless, I couldn't do anything to help him. I felt so useless. I felt it was so unfair.
In a way, now that he's released from his pain, I have stopped needing to worry about his suffering. I stopped feeling so helpless. And in the last week, I've learned to let go.
I realised that I still feel a jolt of sadness from time to time, when I see other shiba inus on the street or in japanese anime (they often show up in Studio Ghibli movies!). I feel sad when I read what we wrote about Bruiser's suffering, or when other people tell me about walking their dogs, playing with them, essentially triggering my old memories of Bru. I think anything that reminds me of how it was when I spent time with him would make me sad. Or anything that reminds me of the suffering he went through. I would tear up sometimes, but only cried maybe twice this whole week? That's pretty impressive for me (I'm always crying at little things...so it's hard to keep it together).
I don't feel sad looking at other dog owners walking their dogs, instead I feel a lot of compassion and gratitude that these dogs have people who love them. I feel like some sort of a kindred spirit with the owners, now that I understand what it's like to love a dog and want to walk them and bond with them. I just sold 90% of Bruiser's stuff and handed it off today, and it didn't make me feel sad at all. It's easier now to move on, now that I've accepted it.
It's a good thing I have a bad memory - it helps me bounce back faster and stop remembering or ruminating about sad things too much. I get to live true to my name, being joyful and optimistic about things.
