On Death
Flapper passed away on the morning of March 25, 2011 from old age and congestive heart failure. He was the light of my life and an amazing little fluffy personality that I miss dearly. I keep sharing this news because visitors keep coming to the site and learning this news for the first time. Thank you very much to everyone who has sent condolences. In the future, you can find us…
On the web: http://www.ducksandclucks.com/blog
On Twitter: http://twitter.com/ducksandclucks
On Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Ducks-and-Clucks/135074249898463
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WARNING: This post is about death. If you don’t want to read about death in great detail, stop reading now.
Flapper had a lot of health issues in his life, and that meant that I spent a lot of time worrying about him. I really didn’t know the toll this took on me until he was gone.
His final months, when I knew he had congestive heart failure, were very special to me. I didn’t know if he would be around a few weeks, a few months or a year, but I knew it would never be long enough. Still, I was okay with it, because I knew his body was wearing out, and he would be just fine with death.
In case anyone is in denial, I can tell you that life is terminal. And the leading cause of death is… life. We are all here in whatever this is for however long we have, and we need to make the very most of it. With Flapper in my life, I became hyper-aware of how careless and cavalier we people can sometimes be with each other. It’s so much easier to appreciate pets, because they love us for who we are, and in spite of who we are.
Throughout his life, but especially near the end, I tried to tell Flapper how precious he was as often as possible. How special and wonderful and amazing and fragile and strong and goofy and optimistic he was.
In his last months, Flapper lost his appetite completely three separate times. The first two times I was able to jump start his appetite with his beloved french fries. But in late March he started to struggle with me when I would give him his heart medications. It started one night and I made him take it anyway. Then he did it again and again, and I stopped one morning and stared at him and just asked him “are you done?” He looked right at me and nodded and “bwaaah’d” to me.
I sat there and held him and looked at him for awhile, petting him and talking to him, and really looking at him. He couldn’t walk more than a few steps because of severe arthritis. He couldn’t play outside anymore for more than a few minutes because he was too weak. His heart would race when he’d swim because it couldn’t keep up with him anymore. He had scar tissue build-up all the time on his vent from his years-ago surgery that made it difficult to pass waste. I wouldn’t say he was suffering, because I have seen suffering and I know what that looks like. But his body was just almost done working for him. It had done the best it could for him.
Death is a process and in old age it is a natural process. With birds, especially rescues that aren’t hand-raised, they hide their illnesses to protect themselves, and they don’t want to be touched when they’re dying. They just want to hide away where they feel safe. It can be stressful for them if people interfere. But with Flapper, his safe place was with me. He was most comfortable sitting with me and being near me.
This made his last few days very special.
A body slowly shuts down over about a week as death occurs. Flapper no longer wanted food and began to sleep more and more. With every passing day, he was a little less “there” but he was never in any stress. I absolutely knew without a doubt that he was done and didn’t want to continue living much longer, but I also didn’t trust myself 100%. So as he approached his final days, I bought him some french fries just to see if he’d eat them.
He wanted to want them, and he ate a few, but it just wasn’t like before. I watched for any signs of stress or pain, like agitation or panting, but he never showed any. I was at work on Thursday, March 24th and I knew that Flapper was close to death. It bothered me the entire day that I might not be there when he passed, but I also wondered if he’d prefer it that way. Either way, I knew he knew I was doing the best I could, and while I was sad, I was surprisingly calm. In his last days, I told him how grateful I was to know him and have him in my life, and how thankful I was to be able to help him move on.
I left work a little early and came home to find him still alive and talking. He was sleeping a lot, but he was still “there.” I took care of all the other ducks and clucks and brought him onto the bed with me for the night. At that point, Flapper started to pant a little bit. For anyone who does duck rescue, you’ll know this as “the death pant.” In other rescues I have lost, it always terrifies me because I know it’s too late for me to help and I’m going to lose the battle to save them. But with Flapper, I knew it was just part of the normal process of death, and he seemed fine with it. With some rescues, the death pant is very brief and they’re gone in a few minutes. Other times it can be a few hours or more. With Flapper, he panted for quite a few hours and then he stood upright and quacked. I looked at him and asked, “are you ready to go? Is it time now?” He shook his head and threw up undigested french fries at me from two days previous.
Ha ha ha ha ha!
All I could do was laugh at that point. Flapper stopped panting and I got up to clean the gooey french fry parts off of myself and the bed as best I could. Throwing up is a natural part of the death process, as Flapper’s body had stopped working slowly over the past few days. But it surprised me, and it served me right for trying to feed him french fries when we both knew he was done with food.
In my past death experiences with rescues, the death pant is near the final minutes of life, but with Flapper that wasn’t the case. With rescues, it’s hard to tell if they’re panting from stress or panting near death, and sometimes it can stress them out further if you try to help them and handle them while they’re dying, which just results in them dying faster. It has to be done because you might be saving their life. It’s too hard to tell with a rescue. You don’t know if they’re able to be saved or if they’re on the verge of death, so you have to try to save them.
With Flapper, I knew he was near death, so I wasn’t trying to stabilize and medicate or rush him to a vet. So once his body was done panting, he just laid down calmly and talked with me. I went to sleep that night next to him knowing he might die while I slept. I decided that might be what he preferred. I woke up a few times during the night and offered him a bit of water. Sometimes he wanted it and sometimes he didn’t. He was becoming limp and not moving much, but he was still “there.” We just stared at each other and he was as peaceful as could be. I told him how much I loved him and asked him to send me lotto numbers in my dreams if he could find a way after his death. Not just the weekly drawing but one of the big Mega Millions.
Early the morning of Friday, March 25th, Flapper wasn’t moving at all but he was still breathing. I placed him on my chest and we fell back asleep like that for awhile. At around 7am I woke up and knew he was near the end. I don’t know how I know because he was just quiet and peaceful and calm. I held him quietly and told him I would be okay without him. His breathing slowed over the next 20 minutes and he became limp and lighter minute by minute. The moment he passed on, I knew he was gone, because whatever it is that lives inside a body… a soul or energy or whatever you believe… that energy transferred from Flapper’s feathery back into my fingertips and into my right hand.
Then he was empty and he was gone.
I laid there with him sitting on me for a little while, amazed that I had felt his energy leave him so clearly. I was sad, of course, but also at peace. I was pretty amazed that the whole death process had been so calm and special, and pretty happy that I had the privilege to support him in his death. I’ve had pets pass away in different ways before, and rescues have died in my arms from injuries and infections, but this was so different and so much better. It was just the end, and it happened the best way it possibly could.
It was kind of beautiful.
The cat needed breakfast and the chickens wanted out. The ducks needed lettuces and Lester wanted to talk. The day started as it should, but without my little guy. His time was over.
The days that followed were a little weird for me. I knew Flapper touched a lot of people but I didn’t realize how much. I know I disappeared a bit but I needed to be alone. Yes, I shared him with everyone and some people even met him in person, but really… I was the only one who knew him and held him and loved him. I felt protective of him in his death. He was not for the world, he was just my little boy.
I wholeheartedly appreciated all the outpouring of support and the condolences. And I honor the genuine validity of everyone’s true feelings of loss over his death. I also thank everyone for sharing his journey with me for all these years.
I thought I would write more “Lessons from Flapper” after his death, but once he was gone, my voice was too. I don’t mean that in a sad way, it’s just the truth. He was the voice of this blog and his voice has moved on. This might be the last post here, but new voices are taking shape on our new website, Ducks & Clucks. I hope you’ll join us there.
http://www.ducksandclucks.com/blog
I’m amazed at how fast things change around here. Can you believe we’ve had 3 more rescues come through since late March? This site and all these archives will stay here for the foreseeable future. But no new posts will be added anymore.
At the beginning of this post I mentioned how Flapper’s life-long health problems took a toll on me. Now that he’s gone, I’m thankful to say that much of the worry I carried with me for him all his years has gone as well. Life isn’t the same, and I’d love to still have him with me, but I’m also more peaceful and less worried. And that has been a nice, new way of living for me.
Flapper my boy… thank you again for gracing my life and teaching me so much about love and life, and even death. There’ll never be another you.
XOXOX
P.S. Please do me a favor. Do not post about your God or rainbow bridges or religion or any other interpretation of Flapper’s death. That experience is his and mine to share, and ours alone. But please do feel free to share your own experiences of death if you like. Thank you for your respect.
32 Comments
Hi Tiffany, after the sudden death of my Stepfather we got a dog, I had always been scared of dogs, but my stepfather taught me not to be afraid of them. And after the sudden death of my neighbour a few months ago I started hand feeding the magpies he used to feed, one has a dodgy wing and leg and used to get picked on, I was always afraid of them to and now they take the mince from my fingers, they sing every morning and wait for me on my front door mat and poop if I don’t come out. Thanks to Flapper I am not as scared of ducks, but still don’t trust geese or peacocks as I have been chased by them. My oldest dog is fighting cancer so I know about worrying, but he is doing well on special dog’s chemo imported from the states for free.
I understand you completely Tiffany. Thank you for sharing. I was with my grandmother when she passed on. Somehow she only wanted me to be with her the day she passed. I knew her body was giving up and she just held on to me and tried to smile and she was at peace although her body was agonizing for 8 full hours. It was not easy to watch, but I felt an overwhelming honor to be the one to be there with her in her final moments of consciousness. And in a way, it was, as you say, beautiful. I was a witness to her passing! Wow! Like the wonder of watching one being born into this life is the same as watching the wonder of one’s passing out of this life. But it is so difficult to explain it until one experiences it. It felt so natural and it felt right. And, yes, there is an energy that moves through you. And it leaves a type of calm and a kind of “knowing” that everything is going to be okay. And “life” does go on even when another life has just moved through you in passing. It is very profound. I am glad you had that with Flapper. He was truly a remarkable being and even though I did not get to meet him, he touched me deeply in his life. And it is no different in his death. He is gone, but yet a part of him lives on in those whose life he passed through. What an honor that you shared him with so many of us. Thank you Tiffany.
If find the way Flapper died, while terribly sad, beautiful. You and him were able to be together peacefully and I believe he was happy.
I did not get to experience death that way when I lost my first set of ducks that I hand raised. While no body was home they were attacked by a pack of coyote. For me it was like they were taken from me, not that they had died, and I had never gotten the chance to say goodbye or even prepare myself. I feel a tinge of envy for you and how your experience was so peaceful. I know from just reading and seeing your photos and videos, Flapper loved you greater than words can describe, I think he wanted to convey that to his very last breath.
I thank you for sharing him with the world for us to experience his life, but know, only you were able to experience the fullness of Mr. Flapper, and only you know the fullness of the love you two had for each other. And that is an immeasurable blessing.
well now I’m crying into my morning coffee. not gushing or anything, but definitely weepy.
I have never had a pet bird, but Kismet, my beloved cat, has cardiomyopathy. He’s been pulled out of congestive heart failure I think five or six times by veterinarians (the bulk of those times were during the diagnosis process, which is difficult because in felines, cardiomyopathy resembles a host of other things and it takes some time to get the medications right). He’s stable now, and still my grumpus man, but I do spend a lot of time worrying about him and I am not sure that is something I ever realized consciously until you wrote about it here. It’s a scary thing because while I don’t know when, I do know how he will die and that’s hard. It’s a degenerative and chronic disease, and I can feel his heartbeat when we’re cuddling together and I know he’s getting worse. But you are also right, that it makes every day special. I spend a lot of time telling him how wonderful he is and how much I love him. He was diagnosed 17 months ago, and I am proud of him for how well he is doing (knock on wood, of course)
You’re so special Tiffany. I love and can’t thank you enough for what you do for these birds, and for sharing it with all of us.
Tiff, my cat, Andrew, died March 7th. It is amazing how similar his death was to your description of Flapper’s death. Andrew died of old age too, but for the last 2 years I worried about him and spent every precious minute I could with him. And, just like Flapper, it took about a week for his body to peacefully shut down completely. He died next to me in bed with my hand on his body. Yes, it is true, it does take a toll on you, watching someone you love so much slowly fade and die.
You told the story beautifully. And it is my story too.
I don’t think I’ve cried this much reading your heartbreakingly beautiful post since our dear white-crested guinea pig Mariusz passed away. We were lucky to have known him, and he was lucky to have passed away in his momma’s arms.
Thank you, Tiffany. Thank you so very much for this.
What a great story you wrote. Yes it made me cry but it was because It made me remember my own sweet Nibbles. I wish her death had been as peaceful. I do have the memory of her claiing for me and being in my arms when she died. She too was a great inspiration iin how to love and how to be loved. Maybe one day I will have another duck but none will be like she was. I hatched her, raised her, went thru egg laying with her, and finally death. She loved her human family and we loved her. Where ever she and Flapper are I hope they swim in the same pond they were our children and they are missed. Love to all of your flock and you too. Paula
This was beautiful…thanks for sharing it with us Your experience reminds me a lot of how it was when my mother passed (2 years ago this week). It was very peaceful, just a slipping away of her spirit with her breathing getting more shallow and quiet until it stopped. In fact, that experience made me understand for the first time in my life why people called it ‘passing away”. That phrase used to bug me; now it doesn’t. (And animals aren’t so very different from humans, are they?)
Again, thanks for sharing this very personal journey with us. I know that much of what we perceive of Flapper was “you” as you gave him his voice. But having ducks of my own, and having met Flapper on several occassions, I can assure you he was a very special creature. The voice you gave him was truly inspired by his personality and character. And what you learned from him about life and death was due to having an open heart. Blessings to you, my friend.
Thank you for writing this post and taking some of the mystery out of the death process. It made me cry. Flapper will be greatly missed!
I understand. I miss you Flapper.
So much love. From you to him. From him to you. From me to you. XOXO
You are wonderful, Tiffany. So wonderful! Thank you for being my friend. Your love for Flapper could not have been communicated more clearly or candidly.
Thank you for sharing this thoughtful post. This winter, I was fortunate to be able to support one of my birds as she gradually moved toward death. The urge to feed is very ingrained and can be hard to resist. Knowing the individual animal well really helps in understanding how to best meet their needs. As in your experience, the end was very peaceful.
I’m glad your voice is continuing on the new blog!
Hey Tiffany
Beautiful Blog with beautiful words I felt the same way when I lost my Nosiey and like you it has taken part of me also.
Take care
di
I always enjoyed Mr. Flapper and I know he was a big part of you. The panting, it is not just ducks that do, and I here unfortunately to share that. We have lost three kitties in the last 18 months and we had no idea what was wrong, when we finally asked the vet for an autopsy (?). Feline peritonitis. 100% fatal. All three panted at the end.
My last kitty, Mr. Yackers, he acted much like dear Mr. Flapper did, but we did take him to be put to sleep because he started stiffening up and we know that is painful.
(((HUGS))))
Thank you for sharing this.
Love and Peace, Tiffany – I said it before in a previous comment and feel the need to say it again… I’m very grateful for what you do for all our furry and feathered friends out there. I will be watching the new site too!
This world needs more compassionate people such as yourself.
Thank you so much for sharing this . I have several elderly bunnies and some disabled and this meant so much to read.
I have lost dear pets the way you lost Mr Flapper Duck. When the communication is so clear and the trust so sincere, death can be very special, indeed. When it is natural like this, I am amazed at how often they seem to wait for just the right time to pass in our arms. How fortunate that you and Flapper were able to share his life together. And how lucky we are that you chose to share him with us.
I read this with Liz on my lap. It was so much more special to read about an angel with an angel on my lap. I still very much miss Flapper too. He was truly an inspiration.
Tiff, I was w/my dad when he passed. He was semicomatose, but he could still hear me and responded several times by hand squeezing. When he squeezed twice for ‘pain’ I made sure he got morphine despite the doctors telling me he didn’t need any. I stroked his hand, got one squeeze for ‘no pain’ and disconnected him from life support. We knew he was in organ failure and would die and I could not imagine him dying alone. I think what you did was so very ‘you’…like Flapper was on hospice and you were his caregiver. (yes, I worked with hospice). Grieving is hard work, please be kind to yourself and like someone said to me about my dad “You did good by him”.
Hi, I’m very sorry for your loss, and I just had my own loss of my own. I had a little goose I found by itself and I took it in. I fed it and cared for it and loved it like it was my own.
I woke up this morning to find my little goose dead. I’m very heartbroken and I can only imagine your pain since you had your guy longer than I. However this does not stop my new found love for geese and ducks. I will be wiser with any other geese and ducks when I’m ready to except the responsibilities again. I had my fair share of people trying to make a “rainbow” out of my goose’s death, but it was a living creature and had feelings and looked for me for comfort. In a way I feel like I failed that little goose. Actually, I DEEPLY feel like I failed it just because of the love I had for it. I just wished I knew more and had more to take care of it.
Again I’m sorry for your loss
One of my areas of suffering is seeing how people acquire hip chic eco lifestyle ducks and chickens and geese, then treat them with insensitivity, neglect, and even brutality. This blog has always been a spot of repose for me. Thank you for that.
Your death sharing is a gift, not an imposition. I have been there many times with a beloved bird, wild or domesticated, and your words ring true. When you spoke of the sensation of an energy transfer at the moment of life surrender, and of the featherbody suddenly becoming oddly light (as though what occupied it literally had mass)–that was as familiar as morning coffee.
With all due respect, he wasn’t just your little boy. He was your feathermate. There is a kind of bond that interacting warmly on a daily and respectful basis with birds creates. We speak of “friendship” but it’s more than that. It is an intimacy I have never put into public words: crazy people might read them, and use them to justify further projection of their meanness or emptiness onto these feathermonks.
Just a little word of experience for the future. IME birds will hang on and hang on and hang on for those they love. They are devoted, brave, duty-and-connection-based beings. I learned in my teens, nursing hurt and dying city birds, that if one is dying, they will leave faster if you let them know it is OK to do so. I mean, actually say it. “It’s OK. I’ll be OK. I love you, and you can go if it is time.” I’ve also had this experience raising and releasing wild bird fledglings (they really don’t understand that you won’t be flying off with them).
I guess it’s best–as with any situation of death–to wait till one actually is OK with saying this, even though that may mean laying our burden (our own need to adjust) onto a dying, suffering beloved. IME, if the departer and the tender are both in tune, it’s possible to ask for these things at the end. Some birds will actually let you know that they’d rather be alone.
The abyss that such a huge loss leaves in you will become over time something like those caves at Altamira or Lascaux: a place where you can go into the dark and quiet, with a little flowing water, to ponder and write about and draw pictures of the deep and vast things. I have such a cave with all these little side rooms–each one washed out of the rock by my relationship with a particular bird.
As you adjust to the new way life is without Mr. Flapper Duck, look around at the rest of your flock. There may be ones awaiting the chance to be your feathermates as well, to be seen as very special individually. They will be there for you, albeit in the ways they have to offer. This is a mystery of life and love: its individuality coupled with its universality. I know that we are very lucky, all of us who have had someone come to us individually to acquaint us with that larger sea called love.
Tiffany, I noticed I wasn’t getting Mr F’s posting anymore so went and checked. I am so sorry for your loss. He was so lucky to have you and his friends there, in the wonderful home you provided.
Having heart failure myself, I’m curious. I have trouble with a lot of the new medication causing severe dizzy spells and can’t take it. What was the name of what he was on. I’m wondering why he didn’t want to take it, other than he knew it was his time.
My boyfriend played at The Gorge Memorial Day weekend and I got to go. I thought of you and George when I was there. Been years since I’d been out of town.
Thanks for sharing his last moments with us and his gift to you at the end. He’s part of you always. And you know that!
Dear Mr. Flappers mom,
Your boy meant lot to me too. His voice was a highlight on an often gloomy day. He was funny, irreverent, inquisitive, silly, grumpy, goofy, intelligent and so much more. I shared his page with everyone I knew. In a confusing and busy world, the antics of a duck were just so appropriate to bring it all back to this…..life is precious, short, meant to be relished and not taken for granted. All of that wisdom from a handsome guy like Flapper. Thank you for sharing him with us, he has wiggled his little feathers into a small place in my heart that belongs to all rescued animals.
Waiting patiently for a book of Flapper’isms.
Much love to his people and peeps in the yard,
Mariana
Bellingham, WA.
Flapper will surely be missed. But this is the reality with life for both animals and humans. I was touched by this post. Thanks.
I am so sorry for your loss. I am, at the same time, so grateful to hear that he did not suffer and did spent last precious time with you. Thank you for sharing the beautiful moments. I just lost one of my sweet ducks and she was only a few months old… It was sad and devastating but I know she knew I loved her dearly.
Just wanted to appreciate Flapper and you for sharing wonderful moments and cheering me up so much no matter how gloomy my day was like the warmest sunshine that will exist no matter what.
Kelly
I used to come to this website often and just look around, I never posted anything, I just enjoyed the stories and pictures of your dear Mr. Flapper Duck. I just read about his death, and my thoughts go to you. I know you are at peace, and I know his spirit and memory are with you always. Reading about his death brought back a flood of memories of when I lost my Pekin, Soprano. It was in October 2005 and I feel like it was yesterday. I found him abandoned at a local pond when he was a week old, malnourished, in 2001. We nursed him back to health, met Nancy, and introduced ourselves to a whole new and wonderful way of life! Soprano wasn’t a “pet”, he was my kid. He made me laugh, and cry, like no other. He was only 4 1/2 yrs old when he passed of cancer. He became sick 6 months prior and we didn’t think it was cancer, because his bloodwork was perfect, but he had a tumor on his liver that we found one week before he passed. He also had cryptococcus, which ironically we cured. He was in a lot of pain and started to go downhill quickly. One day I rushed home from work to spend time with him – I just had a feeling. I laid with him in bed for hours, telling him how much I have and always will love him, and how perfect he was. I got up to go let the dogs out to potty, and Soprano fell off the bed. I ran in, picked him up and held him. I had to go let the dogs back in and I rushed back to the bedroom. I literally saw death – I knew. He was standing there, and to any one else they would have thought nothing of it. But I saw it. I ran to him and held him tight. At first I didn’t call his doctor, because I wanted him to die with me, in his home. But then the reality set in, the panick, the denial. I called his doctor, who is also a friend of ours, and he was going to meet us at the clinic. I called my husband at work and he rushed home. Soprano was holding on…and I knew why. He needed to see his daddy. So as my husband drove to the vets office and I held Soprano in my lap, he started to die. His daddy kissed him and I kissed him and he let go. I have never felt such sadness and pain in my life. We left his body with his doctor, for necropsy, which was a hard choice for me but I wanted to know what happened. In a span of one week, he had two more tumors – one on his kidney, one on his testicle, and the one on his liver had doubled in size. When he fell off the bed, the tumor pushed on his vena cava which caused his death. I believe in my heart, God did something that I couldn’t have. If that fall never happened, I would have had to make the decision to put him to sleep because he was in so much pain. I can’t imagine. I am thankful he died in my arms with the two people who love him more than anything. I miss him so much and always will. I now have a wonderful Sebastopol goose that I love more than I ever could have imagined. Soprano brought her to me, because she too has health problems and Soprano knew I would do all I could to keep her healthy and happy. Thank you for all of your lovely stories about Mr. Flapper, and thank you for such a lovely perspective on his death. I will visit the new website to see what kids you have stories about now
. Take care,
I just learned of Mr. Flapper’s death and am so sorry for your loss. He was such a special duck. I too followed your blog and loved Flapper. I took some time off from being online and just now got a computer again and checked back in to see Mr. Flapper. What a cool duck he was. Thank you for sharing your stories of him with all of us.
So I stumbled upon this site randomly, as most sites are so often stumbled upon. Coincidence, and a happy one at that. I poked about and was dissuaded from getting a duck now and completely sold on finding one later on in life. And then I found this.
I cannot tell you how thankful I am that I have. I know that you didn’t have me in mind when you wrote this, but I’ve bookmarked this so I can read it again and again. I have a terrible fear of death. When I went to visit my uncle a few weeks ago, he died within a few hours of my arrival. There are no words for how I felt. The days that passed were surreal. Life is ever so surreal. And I’ve been trying to organize them, their relationship to each other. This blog so beautifully put what I have been struggling with into words.
Some might find it absurd and a little sacrilegious that I would compare the passing of my uncle, a celebrated man who made a beautiful mark on the world, to that of a duck.
I, however, find it wonderful.
Thank you for sharing your experience.
randomly came across your blog, and this post made me cry! i get so worried about my 3-yr old cat. i love him SO much, that i don’t know what i’d do if i ever lost him. i’m sitting here at work, choking up and trying not to let anyone see me. i’m happy flapper’s last moments were with you, since there was obviously such love between you. i am such a sucker for animals. i wish i could rescue every single puppy and kitty, especially the older ones, but i don’t think i could emotionally handle the death, since i love so hard. i wish i could be there for these special guys. ok, back to work.
I found your blog through a random yahoo answers page, but I just wanted to let you know this had me in tears. Very beautiful, moving tribute to your clearly beloved and amazing pet. Thank you for sharing your experience. I’ve been dealing with a couple pet deaths lately, and this really made me feel less alone. Thank you.