WHY Does It Hurt So Bad When You Lose A Pet…?

WHY does it hurt so bad when you lose a pet…?

This week, the final domino fell for us, having lost our beloved black lab Oliver.

I called him Braveheart because he was just that for me. He lived almost 15 years and was picked out and brought home by Carl. I recall Adyn calling me at work and saying, “Dad brought home a puppy,” and me responding with “wrong number” and hung up. (sigh)

Oliver was named after Oliver Twist, and boy did our other black lab, Indy, who crossed over a few years ago, torture him. She chased him, dragged him around by his collar until one day he grew larger than she was, and the table turned. Oliver and Indy were the kids I had when my own went off to college. They sat with me in my tears and jumped and danced with me in laughter and joy. They grieved with my kids and me after our losses. They never complained about what TV shows I would watch or the meals I made. My Black Labs were perfect companions.

We had anticipated that our time was coming to a close with Oliver, but as many of you know, it is like getting gut-punched when you make “the difficult” decision. As we sat holding him, our vet talked with us, and we recalled stories of him jumping out of a window to chase burglars away. He and our corgi, Walter, never got along. And that is why Walter lives in Denver. Oh, the fights those two would have. And as we sat talking, I started doing my relationship line with Oliver, from first impression to these last few minutes. It’s part of my Grief Recovery Method Certification I use with clients, and now I am using it for myself. I was and AM so very SAD. Like the back of my eyes want to burst into tears, my throat hurts, and in the silent moments, the cries that come out are wails with me crawling into a ball.

As we sat there, the elephant in the room was, “How will we explain this to Noah?” He is only four years old. It is a delicate conversation. Right?

But you know how kids teach you lessons? As we cried out our tears with our vet, Ben Kaiser, and left for home, it felt like we were under a million bricks. It was a heavy evening and night.

And what lesson did Noah teach us? Well, part of Noah’s afternoon schedule is feeding the dogs, so when it came time, he asked where “woofy” was, and I could hear his dad respond with a kind, soft-spoken, “Oliver is now in Heaven with Grandpa Carl, Indy, his great-grandpa Gus and great-grandma LOLA. And, without a beat, Noah said – “OK, he’s OK. I will miss him”.

Our hearts are still fresh with our loss, and we really miss our Braveheart. But as life moves on, our chocolate lab, Charlee, doesn’t know what to think; she’s been under a table, not wanting to trust anyone. Except for Noah and his PB&J.

Rest in Peace, Sweet Oliver, Braveheart~ Woofy.

My Godmother, Mary Esther Bernal

Some of my best childhood memories are those spent with my Godparents. I recall so many weekends being at my godparent's home watching our parents play scrabble until 2 am. Us children would run around, playing in the dark and watching TV until that screen came on to say – no more tv - I had the best moments of laughter, jokes, fireworks, eating pies, and coffee until we were sick- times of my childhood with my Godparents and their family. Every milestone was celebrated together.

When I became pregnant at 16, my Godparents sheltered me so my family could plan out my future. When I had Nathan, my Godmother and cousin Becky would sneak into the hospital and bring our family priest to baptize Nathan in my room. For years, every holiday, every gift was so special. (The last gift was a flashlight I have next to my bed.)

When my mom passed away in 1999, I called to tell my Godmother, and I can still hear the shriek of grief and disbelief. After that, she, my Godmother, would become a mom to me. Always encouraging me, and she and my Godfather were my first LOLA clients to get prepared. (It helped so much with answers for her kids this last year.)

I learned so much from my Godmother about being funny, serious, intelligent, and graceful. She touched so many people through her career at San Antonio Independent School District and as choral director at San Fernando Cathedral. When someone would pass away, it was she that sat at the organ in church and played.

Sometime after my mom passed away, I was at an event for my father at St. Mary's University. I was standing with my Godmother and another family friend. They turned to me and asked me, "Do you know how you got your name?" I stared at them and replied, "I believe I am named after you, Aunt Mary Esther?" She smirked and pointed to herself, "Yes, me Mary Esther," and then she pointed to my other aunt, a very dear friend of my parents, "and her Mary Louise."

I am Esther Louise.

I stared at them and smiled. I had never put the thoughts together, and until that moment, as they both stood looking at me, I had never felt so much Love and responsibility to make sure I lived up to my name. Both women were huge giants to me, and for the remainder of the years since my mom passed, they played vital roles in my life.

Last May, when my cousin Becky called to say my Godmother was ill, I can remember feeling like I was entering the slippery slope of having another giant in my life start to die. I went to visit my Godmother in a temporary facility while her home was being renovated so that she could resume living there. She was tiny in her bed, lying in the dark. She was so happy to see me. We sat and talked and walked through some memories together. While she needed some help recalling details, she was still graceful and beautiful. I left the facility to go to her house to help her family move furniture, paint, clean carpets, and get her room set up for her arrival. I still have the pants I wore with paint on them to remind me of those few days. And when it was over and the house was ready, I ordered some groceries to be delivered and drove off.

I could not go back; I knew that the road ahead would be full of twists and turns. And the most challenging part of my job is knowing when to step back – even in the most personal matters. It's the family's rite of passage.

And then... on Thursday, March 12th of this year, as I was arriving at my office, I got the sweetest text from my cousin. And I knew another Angel was with my mom, dad, and husband. I had to laugh inside because I always joke that I have a bit of FOMO – Fear of Missing Out when all the fun people are on the other side. After all, all my funniest moments were with them.

I worked through the day, and at about 3:30, I called it a day and knew I needed to pick up a six-pack of Coronas and a bottle of prosecco and head over to see my Godfather. He sat sadly and spoke of his broken heart, and then we sat in silence. My Godparents were the last "parentals" for my kids and me. I will forever cherish every memory and moment singing as my Godmother played the piano.

Thank you, Mary Esther Bernal; I promise to try and be as graceful and elegant as you.

Esther Louise.

This Moment

This moment.

Maybe it has taken me 7 years to get to this moment, to realize that what I am doing is for this very moment – this snapshot in time.

Today was difficult, and yesterday was hard…because we knew what was coming. September 28th. The mark of time where we three, sit with our feelings and try and act like – we are ok. But we are not. We are still grieving what we all miss when we share special moments like a wedding or a celebratory dinner… the one person who somehow made us complete. Carl.

Loss is never easy, I explain that when I have an initial consult with a client and new friend because that is what we become as we share the journey together. I made it clear that I would never lie to anyone when it came to grief. It stinks, it stings, and it never gets easier. You just look at it through different lenses.

But today, we went about trying to make ourselves busy. I took the day off with the exception of 2 calls I had to make for work. Then we set out to find some sense of adventure because that is what Carl would have wanted.

After many attempts and the day grew hotter, we settled on lawn ornaments for Halloween, one of Carl’s favorite holidays leading into all the others. We took Noah’s jeep out and showed him how to clean it because every day Carl would come home, come inside, pour a glass of wine, and then go outside to clean his car. He was a maniac about it. Noah played in the bubbles, then we blew up his lawn ornaments and he jumped in to drive his jeep. We cheered and laughed and when the battery died, I jumped on his tricycle and he lept on back yelling- GOOOOO! We laughed and laughed and that was the moment when I saw the pictures later, that I realized we are coming out of the fog. Because we have this beacon of light and laughter leading us…our miracle in all of our darkness – Noah Jude Pipoly.

I always get questions about how I can do what I do ~ well the answer is twofold. One is I love helping others through their darkest moments. The second is, Noah. One day he will look back and say ~ she lived for the moments, gave me her best moments, and always loved me. He will know that life is a journey, and its most precious gift is time spent with those you love.

This moment was picture perfect.

Much Love, Esther

Don't Give up Now.

Don’t give up now.

As we enter into September, I can vividly see back in March when we first entered into COVID19 hibernation and pandemic when Dr. Fauci said, “we could be into this for months at least until August”…  AUGUST?!!!  My kids and I freaked! Good grief how will we ever make it? Toilet paper, paper towels, food limits, could we do this for the next 5 months?

As we entered into May, we had conflicting messages ~ it’s ok to go out, don’t wear a mask, wear a mask, open up restaurants and bars, shut them down, go back to work, go home.  Need I go on?

In our sweet Texas town of San Antonio, so blessed with many people who are friendly and love our Mexican food, (mainly tacos) we started the summer with Memorial Day. Families gathered, friends got together, and graduations began like none other before. New ways of celebrating life’s most important moments were captured on social media. I have to hand it to families with high schoolers graduating, they made some really cool moments.

 In late June, our numbers of those infected crept up and our community was clearly under attack. Precautions were taken and we slowly went back to our homes being cautious.

 For LOLA, I have to admit I have witnessed and listened to families grieve like NEVER before. While some people may take this post as a political message, I say to you this ~ Death is not political. Death will take us all and does not care whether you are young or old or relatively healthy or not ~ Death is sad. 

 Families are hurting, families are struggling to balance home schooling, work and life.

 Families are watching their loved ones die on Facetime or Zoom. They cannot wrap their brains around this reality. Families who were in need of hearts, had cancer or some major illness, are grieving their loved ones who are also dying during this muted time. Families are struggling and sad.

 My message is simple ~ No matter what the media shows you ~ DO NOT GIVE UP NOW.

 Continue to do everything to protect the ones you love as well as strangers.  Now more than ever is a time to be Selfless. 

 If you know someone needing support during this time, please let us know, we are here to help.

 www.lossoflifeadvocates.com

Half empty or half full ~ mid year thoughts

Year half full or half empty…

As we entered into July, I knew I needed to evaluate the year, how far have I come and how far do I have to go to reach my 2020 goals? 

I was so optimistic about ringing in the New Year with my friends and family! Wow…2020, I made it through the 5-year mark of being a widow, a single mom, a new business owner and so much more. I wanted more than anything for this year to be the year of transition for me.

I close my eyes and can still feel the loneliness after losing my partner of 26 years. And I remember the words coming out of my mouth to anyone’s questions~ just give me 5 years. Why 5 years? Because I had spent the previous 26 with a man who I met on a blind date, who ended up being my forever person and I did what no other human wants to do, I crossed him over the threshold of death. I have so many widow friends who jumped right on into dating, and I never judged them because everyone manages death and loss differently. I, on the other hand, gave myself the time to just BE. Be Me. Be mom. Be Esther.

So, flash forward to 2020 and I knew this was THE year to start building my own dreams. And well so far, I can’t say this is what I was envisioning. What I got was so much MORE than I ever thought I would get. I got time with my kids, to talk, laugh and learn together. To allow ourselves to not focus on the future but focus on the present day, living every moment to its fullest.  There were a few moments we would ask out loud when our current status would be lifted and in the next breath, as we watched New York, we knew that we were in for the long haul. So, I took a deep breath…in and out.

I set out during this time to do as much creative work for LOLA as I could for my company and learned how technology was our friend and we could still reach our families and network of partners needing our help. We are unique, we do things you cannot even begin to imagine when a loved one is diagnosed or dying. We step in to do the business of it all so families can grieve and not worry about bill collectors.  We manage chaos and can do this virtually.

As I take a breath at mid-year to reflect on what has passed and what is in front of us, I pause to ask the question, is the glass half empty or half full? I think in my heart it is more than half full. I know we have been lucky and safe these past 6 months, and I also see the emptiness of it as well ~ the goals I had, but I know someday will be realized. It may not be now but will happen.

I see in my glass half empty things I will never complain about again and I just plain miss ~ too many Starbucks coffee meet-ups, having idle chat with associates, partners, friends. Get togethers’ for dinner or a car ride to an event, or even attending an event together. Waiting at a restaurant for a table, and hearing families celebrate in a room. Seeing someone I genuinely care about and walk-up with vigor to hug them and say hello, visiting a friend in the hospital, holding my best friend’s newborn, the milestones of life~ just a few things I miss.

The answer is the glass can be half empty and half full~

Sisters are like waves.

The first memory I have of my sister was of us, going to piano lessons together and when we were done, she would leave minutes before me, my heart panicking, racing as I ran after her running down the street to catch up to her only for her to stop long enough to let me catch up so our mother could see us...walking together home.

It was always like that, when we were young, she was the middle child and I the youngest. She could paint, was a student leader of her class and always knew how to smooth out any situation. As the years went by and I was 16 and pregnant, my sister drove like mad from Kingsville to meet her first nephew and the apple of her eye, Nathan. She would be the BEST aunt ever! And as the years progressed and we grew older together, we shared so many laughs, eating way too much and shopping together when we would visit. Baseball games and dancing, swimming, and yes sadly, even sharing the early beginning burdens of our mother getting sick.

When our mom died, it was the first shared experience of us losing our warrior mom. Our mom was your biggest hero and well, the one person who could bring you down to reality in a New York second. We gently maneuvered through this loss together and shortly after my sister, got engaged, married, and had her first child.

The years that followed brought more children into the fold and while sisters at heart, we also carried on in our own lives – careers, children, husbands. The distance between San Antonio and Dallas is about 5 hours apart, and it grew harder and harder to celebrate moments.

In 2013 our father got sick and the following year, we endured many sisterly challenges. Our brother was always Switzerland. Neutral, never wanting to tip the boat between sisters. After our father died and my husband soon there, after she was the one closing down Carl’s office with me. I recall her holding my hand down so I could sign the paperwork because my shaking hands could not be still. She was the rock.

She drove to Denver that year to see me and the kids for Christmas and stayed until she had to return for her own family holiday. It was then I stood in the front yard of my cold rental home and cried. Cried because I was alone.

The years that followed were in and out, me trying to figure out my new life and being silent and still. My sister being patient.

And so, as I help her celebrate her Birthday, the image of waves hitting the beach shores comes to mind. We used to walk the beaches in the morning with our mom, picking up sand dollars...skipping in the waves. While we have had years together and some apart, we can still sit, laugh, talk the serious talk and look at each other in the eyes and see our mother and father’s facial expressions, and know, like waves hitting the beach, we will always have each other.

Coming home~

As my daughter and I excitedly set out to Houston for meetings, at the back of our minds was the lingering thought of a delicate pick-up from a funeral home in Katy, Texas. We encountered pounding rain driving into the city; the rain feeling somewhat symbolic- like tears, a heavy release pouring down.

This past October, LOLA helped multiple families all having lost their sons- I never do keep track of patterns when working with clients, but this grave pattern was too loud to ignore. Each family experiencing the loss of a child, a brother, due to terminal illness or tragic accident.

Not a one, prepared for the end of life.

As we met with each family, we learned of their sons and how special each one was in their own unique ways.

One family, in particular, I fell in love with (yes, falling in love with my clients does happen) as her son was tragically killed in Houston- while I never knew the details of the loss, I knew within moments of connecting with her that she was one of the strongest and proudest mothers I would ever meet. Her rawness and transparency around her loss were only magnified by her faith. She will see to it that her son’s memory is recalled by his love for Halloween, his passion for technology, and the love for his grandparents, who helped raise him.

About 10 days after losing her son, I had picked this particular mother up for a meeting. As we engaged in small talk around how she was doing, she quietly asked me if I would be going to Houston any time soon. I answered that I had meetings planned and would be there the following week. She then asked if it was possible for me to bring her son home, as he had been cremated at a funeral home near the city.

Without a hesitant bone in my body, I said I would be honored.

As my daughter and I finished up our LOLA appointments in Houston that week, we knew our most important stop would be made right before getting back on the road to San Antonio. Meeting with the funeral director, my daughter and I sat and paused. Such a heavy few moments receiving the remains of a loved one; taking on the honor and privilege of returning what was left of an accident gone heartbreakingly awry.

We carried his remains to our car, placing him comfortably between jackets. Having made the cautious drive back to San Antonio, I delivered him to his mother on Halloween morning (his favorite holiday). I sat with his mother a few moments, admiring his beautiful, commemorative urn she had ordered for him. She shared memories of him and how much he enjoyed dressing up for the holiday- as a child, oftentimes preparing weeks in advance.

In those few minutes, I witnessed the familiar (yet painfully different) process of his mother tearing up in laughter over happy memories, leading to utter disbelief. Her son was gone.

Standing up to say goodbye, I wrapped my arms around her in the warmest hug I could offer, feeling both deeply saddened and humbled by the act of bringing her son home.

When people ask me what LOLA is and what we do, I say:

“Whatever it takes to offer relief in the saddest times of life. We are advocates for the Real Stuff- like bringing someone home.”

Farewell to another part of our Pipoly Family

Indy – Our Black Labrador

She was the family dog after we lost Ceasar our beloved chocolate lab who died in 2006.  He was a monster and for a childhood dog, we thought no other pet could ever match his character. 

Adyn and I set out on a Sunday afternoon to Floresville, Texas to find our new puppy. She was a tiny black Labrador and the lady selling her said she would knock off $50 if we took her then and there. SOLD! We first had to chase her down and then put her in the car where Adyn held her all the way home.

Carl named her after the Indianapolis 500 because she loved running in circles around the front and back yard.  She won over Carl’s heart in a New York second.

Carl never picked on her, he always treated her like royalty. As the years progressed and we grew into another black Labrador, (Oliver) these two were our children after our kids went away to college.

When Carl grew ill and flew back to San Antonio for work one last time before going to Mexico for Cancer Treatment, Nathan told me how Indy jumped up to Hug Carl as if to say hello and goodbye.

When Carl passed away and we made it to my father’s house, both labs were waiting for us – as a matter of fact, they came running into the front yard to greet us. It was them comforting us when we needed it most.

For the past 5 years, we have been blessed to have Indy to keep the other dogs in check. She has been a best friend, a comforting hug and wet sloppy kiss. We will miss her.

We owe her so much for her time with us and are grateful for her love. Rest in Peace Sweet Indy Girl ~ You are loved so much for a job well done.