IN LOVING MEMORY OF CHAI w/Elizabeth Blake-Thomas

​It’s day 11 and 6 hours and 32 minutes since I felt like my heart was ripped from my chest, stood on, stabbed and ripped apart some more. My best friend, my soulmate, my other daughter, my plus one, and my partner unexpectedly passed away. She died of a heart attack that no one saw coming.

What I’m about to tell you is either going to make you think I’m being over the top, misleading with my description, or connect to you in a deep way that not everyone else understands: This being had four legs and was called Chai. She was a Maltese. She had just turned 13, and I had her since she was 9 months old.

Be honest, how did you react?

I remember when I didn’t understand the connection between a pet and their owner. Even saying those words sounds non-personal and removed; “a pet”.

I have now joined this exclusive club “The Grief Club”. This is a membership that I didn’t want, or ask for. It wasn’t free, it has cost me more than I could ever imagine. It’s a club we all get to join at some time or another. It’s a club none of us want to actually be part of.

It’s irrelevant whether they have 2 or 4 legs, or maybe no legs or more legs. The loss of something you love can tear you open in a way that is incomparable to anything else. I thought I’d experienced the feeling of loss and grief when friends passed, or when my marriage ended, or when friendships came to a natural close. But nothing could prepare me for this. Total raw, deep wounded, uncontrollable, true heartache. So how do I explain this mental space I’m currently in to anyone? Let me try.

Chai came to me when I began my new life in LA. She was there at many major life events. The new LA life I was starting, moving homes, divorce, the death of my daughter’s best friend and my daughter’s graduation. She was also by my side 24/7. I’m not being extreme here, she was my registered psychiatric service dog so came into every restaurant, every movie theatre, every live theatre event, concerts, events, galleries, and museums. She was at film festivals, appearing on every red carpet with me, and also sitting on my director’s chair when I directed movies. She travelled around the world with me on my lap on planes, trains and buses. We had something unique. So for 12 years and 3 months we were physically together all the time. The only time I wasn’t with her was one trip to Peru and I can assure you I missed her every single day of that.

We were on our last (not that I knew this) trip to Michigan to see family. I keep reliving those last four days, did I miss something? Was there something I could have done to change this outcome? By the way, these thoughts come into my mind every hour at the moment. Everything was fine, no signs, no differences in her behavior. I’ve also googled every hour signs of death, signs of heart attack. She had nothing. On the last day we were at events and enjoying life. She only began having breathing problems at about 11pm at night. We thought it was allergies. THERE WERE NO SIGNS. By 2:30am I decided to take her to the vet (after she had been asleep on the bed comfortably sleeping) I just knew something was more serious. We got in the car. At 3:30am she was taken from me where she had tests. Blood cells and count were all good. She had fluid on her lungs though. So they decided to place her in the oxygen chamber. I didn’t want her to be scared so I said, “See you later. Love you”. The vet said we needed to give 12-24 hours to see how she fared. So we left. At 7am I received a call as planned saying nothing had changed. I thought this meant at least it hadn’t gotten worse. Then I was abruptly woken up at 8am and told the words I never wanted to hear. “Miss Chai has passed away, three minutes ago”.

I’ve been told a guttural scream and groan left my body. I remember just repeating, “what do you mean? I don’t understand, you just called me and told me she was alive”. The next half an hour was a blur as we got dressed and drove to the vet’s. She was given to me in a blanket, 45 minutes after she had passed. She was still warm and smelled so good.

This wasn’t the plan, we had come merely for the weekend. We had things arranged for when we returned to LA. I had just had my baby stolen from me too soon.

What I hadn’t expected was all the other floods of emotions that rushed to me over the next couple of days. I was lost; I didn’t know who I was. I wasn’t anyone without Chai. As I explained before, this may sound extreme but my arm, leg and any other part of me that felt crucial to me living had been taken. I am known as the hat and dog lady. She was my identity. This may sound “unhealthy” but it wasn’t, it was pure unconditional love. We were each other's everything.

I felt three layers of grief. Grief for physically losing my baby, then a layer of losing what we had together and our plans and our future. Then finally a layer of grief for who I was and had become. Everything was stripped from me. Everything suddenly seemed futile. Friendships, work, plans, socializing. None of it actually mattered if Chai wasn’t by my side.

How are you reacting now? Are you thinking this is silly and “time will heal”, or do you totally understand?

I began googling the loss of a parent and or a child to try and see if this was comparable. What I learned is that grief is the only thing that isn’t textbook. Okay, there are 5 stages, but nothing can explain how these stages will affect you, or when, or for how long. So I was left to navigate this by myself. I decided to do something I've never actually done properly before. I sat with my feelings. My true feelings. I let myself groan and cry, and rest and sleep. I let myself hug and sleep with her bag of ashes. I didn’t go out. I went for a local walk only when I felt ready. I didn’t try to make other people feel better for my grief by responding to them all. I sat with my grief and felt it throughout my whole body. I allowed myself to process it all.

I recognized that my life had changed. I didn’t know this meant that I would totally change. The way I lived changed. The phrase “time will heal” to me is total BS. It doesn’t heal, you just learn to live with it in your everyday life. You are still in the club with a lifetime membership. You are still forever changed. You just have to learn to live with it.

So what now? I am changing my life. I've had a friend cleanse. I now recognize that the things I used to do need to be done in a different way. I've learned where I want to spend my time. I've understood how brave I am and how I have courage I didn’t know I had. Chai’s time with me was the most amazing part of my life. We were “a three”, my daughter, Chai and I. I won’t let her life be in vain. Everything she taught me needs to be something I pass on. She taught me and reminded me how to live, how to love and now how to deal with loss.

I will never forget her and I ask for anyone experiencing this kind of pain and grief to not hold it inside. Do not be afraid to share this. You may need to find your people or your own outlet, but know it’s real, that you’re heard and that it only hurts this much because of how hard you loved them.

In loving memory of Chai. ∎