I was moved by the kindness and warmth of the vet staff throughout this painful process and ultimate decision. In the moment my dog took his final breath I had been sobbing. The doctor was on the floor with me, solemn with me, and quiet with me as I let go. His presence in the room so closely mirrored mine I had more than one urge to ask him if he was ok, if it was difficult for him. Each time that urge would surface, I would quickly remember this wasn’t his first time, in fact he probably does it all the time. But he had the remarkable ability to really be in the moment of my first time.
I recently returned from a trip to find a card from the vet’s office signed by all of the staff with heartfelt messages and I was again moved by their sincerity in helping me through my first time of letting go of my beloved dog. My first heart-wrenching loss of this kind. It’s standard procedure for them but that’s not how it felt for me.
Whatever it is that you do in your life - teaching your 717th student how to write their name, helping your 208th patient recover from surgery, meeting with your 376th client whose home is going into foreclosure - I hope you can approach it with genuine engagement of remembering it’s the first time for them. Because it matters. Whether or not it matters to you, it definitely does to them. A lot.
