I wrote this letter to my bearded dragon Liz who we had put to sleep last night after a long battle with MBD and constant egg laying. It's long and sappy and I don't really expect anyone to read it, but if someone does maybe they can relate to some of the feelings I have right now. And it definitely felt good letting this all out.
Dear Liz,
I don’t even know where to start. I miss you so much and it’s only been 13 hours since you died and 24 hours since I knew you would need to go. Letting you go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I selfishly still think to myself, “maybe I shouldn’t have taken you into the vet, maybe you would have laid the eggs and kept going on living.” But the doctor said that you were in pain, and that was enough to make me know that letting you go was the right decision. Still, seeing your empty tank is almost unbearable. We have held onto all of your things and I don’t think we can ever bring ourselves to get rid of them.
It’s easy for me to go on about how wonderful you were and how much I love you, but it’s incredibly difficult for me to talk about my regrets. I am so sorry for all the days where I didn’t have time for you, where I was too busy with your little brother or with work or whatever to give you the proper care you deserved. I know it probably didn’t make a huge difference in the end, but if I could go back I would make sure every day you were cared for to the highest ability. I also regret not spending enough time with you and not taking you outdoors as often. Still, you never showed me anything but sweetness and love. What I would give to go back for just one day when you were at your healthiest.
I will miss holding your hand and watching your dad tuck you in at night. I’ll miss reading to you and showing you videos. I will miss bringing out the tank of roaches or worms and seeing you run to the front of your tank all excited, or trying to hop up at the tongs holding a worm because you can't wait. I have so many great memories of you that I hope I can eventually talk about you and not think about your death. I want to get to a point where I can say your name and smile instead of cry.
I know that sometimes when you take a chance on love it does not always work out. While I wish you could have lived many more years, I still think taking a chance on adopting and loving you was worth it. I don’t see your death as a defeat, but as an end to a short but glorious adventure.
I love you Liz, now and forever,
Your mom
Dear Liz,
I don’t even know where to start. I miss you so much and it’s only been 13 hours since you died and 24 hours since I knew you would need to go. Letting you go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I selfishly still think to myself, “maybe I shouldn’t have taken you into the vet, maybe you would have laid the eggs and kept going on living.” But the doctor said that you were in pain, and that was enough to make me know that letting you go was the right decision. Still, seeing your empty tank is almost unbearable. We have held onto all of your things and I don’t think we can ever bring ourselves to get rid of them.
It’s easy for me to go on about how wonderful you were and how much I love you, but it’s incredibly difficult for me to talk about my regrets. I am so sorry for all the days where I didn’t have time for you, where I was too busy with your little brother or with work or whatever to give you the proper care you deserved. I know it probably didn’t make a huge difference in the end, but if I could go back I would make sure every day you were cared for to the highest ability. I also regret not spending enough time with you and not taking you outdoors as often. Still, you never showed me anything but sweetness and love. What I would give to go back for just one day when you were at your healthiest.
I will miss holding your hand and watching your dad tuck you in at night. I’ll miss reading to you and showing you videos. I will miss bringing out the tank of roaches or worms and seeing you run to the front of your tank all excited, or trying to hop up at the tongs holding a worm because you can't wait. I have so many great memories of you that I hope I can eventually talk about you and not think about your death. I want to get to a point where I can say your name and smile instead of cry.
I know that sometimes when you take a chance on love it does not always work out. While I wish you could have lived many more years, I still think taking a chance on adopting and loving you was worth it. I don’t see your death as a defeat, but as an end to a short but glorious adventure.
I love you Liz, now and forever,
Your mom
