

deleted_user
Im new. In short, my story is that on the morning of January 10th 2008, my father died and that evening his golden retriever died too. Thirty days later, on February 9th my mother died. Their story was written in the Journal/Sentinel. The emails were astounding. Everything from thanks for reminding me whats truly important in this crazy world, to how uplifting, to it made me want to try harder.
If it helps just one person then Ill be happy that I shared their story.
Companions wouldn't stay apart for long
One week apart last summer, Bob and his dog, Sunny, were diagnosed with cancer.
They died the same day, Jan. 10, Bob in the morning and Sunny that night.
Bob's wife, Norma, joined them in eternity a month later on Feb. 9.
"She kept saying it's too much," their son David said. "She put on a brave face, but I know it was really hard."
David and the couple's two other grown children, Michael and Cheryl, talked about their folks this week as they cleaned out their home.
The void in their lives is deep and sudden. But there's comfort in picturing their parents together and the beloved golden retriever at their side.
Going through his mother's wallet, David found a scrap of paper she had kept more than half a century. It gave the particulars of the couple's first date, an autumn dance in Milwaukee in 1955. Bob got Norma's telephone number that night and wrote it with his finger in the dust on his dashboard. Less than a year later, they were married.
They mixed love with some serious chemistry. "They could look across a room and know it was time to leave a party," Cheryl said. "They were best friends," Michael added.
And they were crazy about golden retrievers, often attending dog shows together and filling their home with images and books devoted to the breed. Sunny was their fourth since the early 1970s, following in the pawsteps of Fred, Bo and Amber.
But at 12 years old, Sunny was having difficulty walking. She took a variety of pills to make her more comfortable during the ravages of bladder cancer.
Bob was hardly sick a day in his life and throughout his 40 years of working for the phone company. But in August, he had a stroke while driving.
Doctors found a golf-ball-size brain tumor. Surgery left him paralyzed on one side. He spent over a month in the hospital and then moved into a rehab center. He missed driving and working on his many handyman projects at home, but he never complained.
Despite her own health problems, including kidney disease, Norma spent much of every day at her husband's side. She had retired after 26 years at Wisconsin Color Press.
"The only thing we can figure is that her will to care for him superseded everything else," Michael said.
Bob was 72 when he died. That night, Michael stayed with his mother. She slept on the couch in the family room, he slept nearby on the floor, and Sunny was between them. The dog's breathing was labored. Shortly before midnight, Michael awoke and found the dog lifeless.
"I think Sunny is gone," he told his mother. "She said, 'I can't believe they would do this to me twice in one day.' Then she said Dad must have come for his dog."
The next day, in addition to helping plan her husband's funeral and selecting a double plot at Wisconsin Memorial Park, she went with her two sons to the vet's office. They had Sunny wrapped in a blanket. She said her goodbyes.
In the days that followed, they talked of getting another dog for her. Her children helped put Bob's affairs in order. Norma's six grandchildren eased her loss, even if just for a while. Sunny's food and water bowls were left in their usual spot in the kitchen.
A little more than four weeks after losing her husband and their dog, and after a bout of bronchitis, Norma died at home in a chair. She was 70. Cheryl said the cause of death would have to include a broken heart.
In a eulogy, Cheryl said of her parents, "January 10th to February 9th was the longest they have been apart in 51 years."
A small container of Sunny's ashes was buried with Norma alongside her husband. The rest will be placed near the remains of Fred, Bo and Amber in a rock garden at the family's lake cottage up north.
After the second funeral, Michael was in the basement of his parents' house when he heard something fall upstairs. He came up and found what had somehow slipped off a hook near the back door.
He felt a shiver. It was his mother's coat and Sunny's leash.
If it helps just one person then Ill be happy that I shared their story.
Companions wouldn't stay apart for long
One week apart last summer, Bob and his dog, Sunny, were diagnosed with cancer.
They died the same day, Jan. 10, Bob in the morning and Sunny that night.
Bob's wife, Norma, joined them in eternity a month later on Feb. 9.
"She kept saying it's too much," their son David said. "She put on a brave face, but I know it was really hard."
David and the couple's two other grown children, Michael and Cheryl, talked about their folks this week as they cleaned out their home.
The void in their lives is deep and sudden. But there's comfort in picturing their parents together and the beloved golden retriever at their side.
Going through his mother's wallet, David found a scrap of paper she had kept more than half a century. It gave the particulars of the couple's first date, an autumn dance in Milwaukee in 1955. Bob got Norma's telephone number that night and wrote it with his finger in the dust on his dashboard. Less than a year later, they were married.
They mixed love with some serious chemistry. "They could look across a room and know it was time to leave a party," Cheryl said. "They were best friends," Michael added.
And they were crazy about golden retrievers, often attending dog shows together and filling their home with images and books devoted to the breed. Sunny was their fourth since the early 1970s, following in the pawsteps of Fred, Bo and Amber.
But at 12 years old, Sunny was having difficulty walking. She took a variety of pills to make her more comfortable during the ravages of bladder cancer.
Bob was hardly sick a day in his life and throughout his 40 years of working for the phone company. But in August, he had a stroke while driving.
Doctors found a golf-ball-size brain tumor. Surgery left him paralyzed on one side. He spent over a month in the hospital and then moved into a rehab center. He missed driving and working on his many handyman projects at home, but he never complained.
Despite her own health problems, including kidney disease, Norma spent much of every day at her husband's side. She had retired after 26 years at Wisconsin Color Press.
"The only thing we can figure is that her will to care for him superseded everything else," Michael said.
Bob was 72 when he died. That night, Michael stayed with his mother. She slept on the couch in the family room, he slept nearby on the floor, and Sunny was between them. The dog's breathing was labored. Shortly before midnight, Michael awoke and found the dog lifeless.
"I think Sunny is gone," he told his mother. "She said, 'I can't believe they would do this to me twice in one day.' Then she said Dad must have come for his dog."
The next day, in addition to helping plan her husband's funeral and selecting a double plot at Wisconsin Memorial Park, she went with her two sons to the vet's office. They had Sunny wrapped in a blanket. She said her goodbyes.
In the days that followed, they talked of getting another dog for her. Her children helped put Bob's affairs in order. Norma's six grandchildren eased her loss, even if just for a while. Sunny's food and water bowls were left in their usual spot in the kitchen.
A little more than four weeks after losing her husband and their dog, and after a bout of bronchitis, Norma died at home in a chair. She was 70. Cheryl said the cause of death would have to include a broken heart.
In a eulogy, Cheryl said of her parents, "January 10th to February 9th was the longest they have been apart in 51 years."
A small container of Sunny's ashes was buried with Norma alongside her husband. The rest will be placed near the remains of Fred, Bo and Amber in a rock garden at the family's lake cottage up north.
After the second funeral, Michael was in the basement of his parents' house when he heard something fall upstairs. He came up and found what had somehow slipped off a hook near the back door.
He felt a shiver. It was his mother's coat and Sunny's leash.
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