Sadly, I seem to be an expert on bearded dragons dying. I know the process, the look, the death gasping, and what to do with their bodies immediately after death and then later.
I am often asked how I deal with the grief. This year has been TOUGH. There has been a lot. My great uncle, my husband's grandma, my dog of 10 years, at least a half dozen beardies, my bird, my fish, and several other reptiles. I've coached a half dozen people on how to handle their own dying dragons (including one today). I helped a dear friend in rescue with the loss of her two beloved dogs. I've helped people in my neighborhood and church who were in the process of dying.
Death has been rampant this year.
How do I handle it?
Some days I don't handle it so well. I'm not always graceful and in control.
But I think I realized what makes the difference for me. When I feel grief, I let it out immediately. I don't stuff or bury; I don't distract or dismiss; I don't ignore it and hope it will go away. When I feel sadness, I allow myself a moment to grieve and I let my tears fall.
On Saturday, I took my family to see Disney's "Big Hero 6." And, when in a moment of sadness in the movie, I applied the same principle. I cried. My tears fell hard and fast and I tried hard to moderate my breathing so I took in enough oxygen.
I cried over a fictional story filled with fictional characters. I let my grief out.
The funny thing about grief is that it tends to come and go at random times, but when I let it out, it goes away. When I bottle it up, it multiples quickly and becomes unbearable.
Yes, there have been some awkward moments when I bawled my eyes out over a small sick lizard. I have stroked the head of a dying beardie at the vet's office while I waited for the medicine to stop his heart and I wet his head & face with my tears. I had had that beardie for only a day when it was obviously time to put him down. I still allowed myself to grieve and feel the loss of his gentle spirit.
Sometimes, like with Xena, I cried a few days before her death. When it was time to let her go, my tears were spent. My heart was sad, but also happy that she was free. Sometimes I cry in anger at the stupid people who cause such suffering for animals/reptiles and I think mean thoughts like "I hope they never have children" or "I hope someone does this to them." But I let those thoughts out too and they go away.
I am sad for Andy tonight. I haven't cried yet. My tears are there, prickling just below the surface, and I may find myself bawling at a random time for his loss. But -- and this is KEY-- HE DIED BEING LOVED!! It may seem trite to say that to some, but I believe it. Andy knows he is safe & warm & loved; on some level of his little reptile brain, his defenses are down and he's letting go of the fight so that I can fight for him.
Love isn't enough to save bearded dragons. It takes saline injections and Betadyne and a LOT of syringes and Critical Care and my awesome vet & vet's office and Q-tips and toothpicks and a ton of laundry and paper towels and antibiotics frozen in my freezer. And it takes the ability to love and to let go.
So when my tears come-- and they *always* do-- I let them flow freely and let my heart grow a little bigger to hold the memory of the beardie (or reptile) I lost.
That, with the grace of God, is how I do what I do. Just in case you wondered.