this is what grieving with the family feels like
I honestly thought writing this would be easier. Two days after it happened I told myself hm maybe give it a month then I’d be ready. A couple of months pass and I still couldn’t get myself to write about it without tearing up and not being able to get past the first paragraph. But today, I’ll give it another try.
Today is a Sunday and there was absolutely nothing that suggested it was different from any other Sunday. We had a stay-out helper scheduled to clean parts of the house and the kids opted to stay at home while Nouelle and I attended a worship service at a nearby church.
We put our phones on silent while the service is on-going. That statement obvious and certainly didn’t need to be written. But anyway, the service was about to end when we pulled out our phones to check on our kids and saw missed calls and messages.
DADDY! EMERGENCY! TWIX GOT RUNOVER BYE A CAR
Dddddddd
Aaaassa
Dadddy
PLS COME HOME
A neighbor was trying to reach us.
We rushed to exit the main worship hall and I immediately called our eldest. Cries and sobs greeted me on the other line while we were on the escalator. Right then and there I already knew. Twix, our Chihuahua who’s scheduled to celebrate his 12th birtrhday the following month, was gone.
Nouelle and I sprinted to the parking lot and raced out of the building. I ignored most traffic rules in an attempt to get home the soonest. This would’ve been a personal record if I had Strava turned on. I didn’t even bother parking the car properly and just ran inside.
That’s when we saw our daughter—with a friend of hers from the neighborhood trying to console her—hunched over and crying over a cardboard box containing Twix’s remains wrapped in a plastic bag, blood still visible.
Our eldest was deep in her emotions that we couldn’t get a clear picture of what happened without her bursting into tears; youngest was clearly shaken up but trying his best to keep it together. He gets it from me as I rarely show my emotions. It was never encouraged as I was growing up.
I ran the math in my head and accessed the CCTV to get the footage I needed to piece together a congruent story. I was always the logical one—the one who can keep his emotions separate—but watching how it happened frame by frame, feelings of disgust, anger, and melancholy rushed through my body. I couldn’t watch it for a second time. I started crying.
Five minutes. Five minutes is all it took for Twix to slip out of the door, walk out the gate, and get ran over by an SUV.
Day 1
I can’t find the exact words to describe how we were all feeling as a unit. Even Charlie, our Shih Tzu, looked sorrowful lying on the floor with his head down. He was trying to get into the box Twix’s body was in earlier, trying to wake him up perhaps wanting to play with him.
I felt helpless. As a parent, you want to be strong and be there for your kids yet you yourself is just as devastated as they are and experiencing a mix of mostly somber emotions. It’s hard to play the role of someone who has it together. That’s not me, at least not right now. But I had to be strong, even as a facade, for my family. I can’t count how many times I’ve lost it and cried. But I realized it’s better to just let it all out instead of keeping the emotions in.
I gave them full permission to take my attention away from work or wake me up in the middle of the night if they can’t sleep or just want someone to talk to. I’m reminded of how important it is to express and articulate these things after our daughter used this exact card rendering me widely awake while she slept soundly in our room. I don’t remember being able to sleep that night. If I hated the night before, this made it more unbearable.
But if anything, Twix passing away has made our family closer. We made sure to remind each other that we’re there for one another and make it a point to really show up when the need arises. Sure, the heaviness in the heart, the depression that consumes you when day turns to night, the melancholy that envelops you throughout the day—they don’t go away; but having someone share in the grief helps one way or another.
Day 2
There was a beautiful moment on the second night. Everyone was already asleep and my heart just suddenly felt very heavy. Memories of Twix flashed so quickly and vividly that I just lost it and burst into tears.
Not wanting to wake anyone up, I tried my best to hold it in—letting out just the faintest of sobs.
It didn’t take long for someone to squeeze in and give me a hug from behind.
Our daughter, right on cue, just as we promised one another.
Day 3
We're starting to heal.
I'm hearing more and more laughter throughout the day.
Hopefully the nights will also start to become easier.
Kids are back sleeping in their room. 13-year-old said, “I think I can do it,” with a smile.
I paused and reflected, “if we start being happy again, does that mean we’re forgetting about him?”
The thought stings.
It shouldn’t be zero-sum.
I’ll park it for now.
Day 9
We’ve managed to keep ourselves busy but there are times the sadness all of a sudden hits.
We’ve finally gotten his remains back—ashes, paw prints, etc—and it somehow feels like he’s home again.
Still missing him every moment.
Day 17
Words matter.
I was talking to our daughter and said, “I remember Twix..”
She immediately cut me and said, “don’t say ‘remember.’ Saying ‘remember’ means you’ve forgotten. Have you forgotten about him already?”
Yep. We’re still grieving.
Day 28
Today would’ve been his 12th birthday.
Nouelle bought him flowers from the market.
He probably would’ve spent it sleeping and eating and that would’ve been wonderfully alright.
Day 500
I’m finally able to write this story without having to stop and break down in the middle.
Kids have learned that it’s okay to cry and show one’s emotions.
On one drive heading home from a vacation, our now 14-year-old asked his brother a rather random question. “If you punch yourself and you cry, does it mean you’re strong or weak?” The 9-year-old quickly replied, and to my delight, “remember Daddy said when you cry it does not mean you’re weak?”
We’ve been walking Charlie in the mornings quite regularly these days and I sometimes can’t help but think Twix would’ve liked this then I’d quickly realize, no—he would’ve hated it and would rather just stay at home and sleep in his favorite bed.
Yep. Still missing him dearly. ♥️