Never Can Say Goodbye

Dear Pepsi,

As I write this you are laying beside me, struggling to hold on. We have had some difficult days but also some great ones. We went to the beach, took lots walks, you snuggled in bed with Dad and I, played with your sister, and you rolled with me just about everywhere. The staff at Nordstrom's Rack went crazy over you and even posed for a picture. Last Monday we took you in the ER, and sure enough, your white cell count was very low and the tumor was bleeding. You were admitted and after fluids and antibiotics, you bounced back. A bump in the road your oncologist said. Overall the week was good - and we resumed your chemo pills. You saw your holistic vet, Dr Stuer, and while he said your vitals were not as strong, you still looked good and perky. I continued to maintain high alert status and I am sure you found me annoying as I listen to your breathing and stared into your eyes.

Saying goodbye to Daddy

  The staff at Nordstrom's Rack loving Pepsi 

The past day or so you have been coughing more frequently. I wondered if I should take you to ER last night. I hate to traumatize you with constant poking and prodding and unnecessary visits to the hospital. I doubt my ability to know when to take you in or leave you in peace at home. Today though I felt you slipping. I took you for a walk to the little park you like so much a few blocks away. You were lively and happy but the coughing became more frequent. I took you to the store with me and as soon as I got back in the car the severity of your coughing told me to head straight to ER. The doctor was a wonderful and kind women, she kissed and held you. While there was not another pericardial effusion, the chest x-ray showed the cancer had spread into your lungs and airwaves. You started coughing up large amounts of blood. The doctor said there is nothing to be done but give you love and comfort. And let you know it is OK for you to go. They said you would tell me when it is time and for the first time I am seeing it your eyes. You have fought a good fight. But you are tired.

I asked Sara, our neighbor and a Pastor, if she would come over and say a prayer for you tonight. She came and brought grace to us. Her words soothed us and gave us strength. You turned to look up at her.  Dad is on his way from California and will be here in the morning. I told him don't be mad if you can't hold on. He said he won't but hI hear the pleading in his voice for you to be waiting for him when he walks in the door. He wants to say goodbye but how do we do that? How do I let you go and live in this life without you? Every place in this house is filled by you. Higgins Beach is you. Riding shotgun is only for you. Three toy Peps is only you. There is too much vacancy without you, holes too deep to plunder and still be able to crawl out of. When my mom died this summer she waited until I got on a plane. Fifteen minutes after I landed they called to tell me she passed. I stood outside baggage claim trying to process her death. I felt frozen and confused. The world made no sense. I was with her the entire day before laying next to her in bed watching Netflix as she went in and out of sleep. I watched her chest go up and down and listened to her labored breathing as I am listening to yours now. In my head I know what's going on here but my heart is refusing to accept it.

Pepsi at Higgins Beach last week

Don't worry sweet girl, I will not let you linger in pain. Let's see of you can hold for Dad, but if not, we will be okay. It is nearly 11pm. I will sleep on the floor beside you, whisper how much I love you, and rather than goodbye, let's say goodnight. Sleep tight baby girl, mom is here, now and always.

I love you so much my darling Pepsi,

Mom