A tribute to AlliePublished 10:15am Friday, February 24, 2012
Our middle daughter Kim is off again to the middle east for a 13 month tour of duty. I sent Elaine down to Georgia to spend five days with her before her deployment. Allie, whose age is estimated to be between nine and 10 years, had been failing and losing awareness.
She had recently been put on meds to help with her cognizant. While Elaine was away I learned that Allie had a brain tumor. Except for fleeting moments, she had lost all awareness of who and where she was.
She’d wander around the house in circles and trap herself in a corner and forget how to turn around. She had completely gone off her food but she drank a lot, which meant constant trips outside under my supervision. My two other dogs and three cats only received the bare necessities through three days, but they seemed to understand. I did my best to make it up to them when Allie slept. I kept Elaine in the dark, not wanting to disrupt her important trip with our daughter, who deployed last Saturday. I had already set up an appointment to have Allie quietly put to sleep the day after Elaine came home, I wanted her to have a day to say goodbye. Allie had lost all quality of life and though it killed me, it was the right thing to do. The nights were the most difficult, I’d close her in my room with me so she wouldn’t wander and lay on her bed with her in my arms until she fell asleep. “It’s alright Allie,” I would whisper, “you can go if you want to, your brother Monty is up there waiting for you with lots of new friends I’ve sent his way.”
Elaine came home on Thursday and we spent the rest of that day and all day Friday doting on Allie and saying our final good byes.
On Saturday morning I carried Allie to our car in her favorite bed, which I decided to send off with her.
As we drove off Allie gained awareness for the last time and spoke to me. “Dad.” “Yes precious, what is it?” “I heard you the other night, it’s okay, I’m ready to go see Monty.” It was hard to drive as the tears flowed down my cheeks like an avalanche. “One more thing, Dad” Allie went on, “thank you for all your love and for showing me that my life was worth living.” In memory of Allie.
Thanks for listening.