Oh Amber,
I know your pain all too well. Last Saturday Dec. 15, I accidentally stepped on our family Budgie Violet ("Vi") resulting in a traumatic injury and death a few moments later in my daughter's hands. He (yes, we misidentified his sex earlier on) was a birthday gift to my middle daughter 5 years ago when she was 13. She had hand trained him and he was very tame. He started out as one of a pair of budgies, but the other budgie died a few months after we received it. As a result he was a solo budgie and we were his flock. As a result he became integrated with our family and was in reality a vital member. We joked that he probably thought of himself as human! He was a precocious little guy, who would nibble on my neck (I work at home). I discovered early on that he loved spinach, a trait that allowed us to retrieve him when he accidentally flew away last year. He would sit on our shoulders when we walked around the house (which is how he escaped when my wife walked out onto the deck behind our house without realizing he was there!). He knew how to communicate his wants and would hear my daughter returning to the house even before I realized she was near the house. Every morning I would take the cover off his cage and feed him a few leaves of spinach. He would sing along with me when I played certain piano pieces such as Bach's Prelude in C major. He would joyfully bathe as water poured from the kitchen sink tap into my wife's cupped hands.
As a single budgie, and very social, he was fascinated by his reflection in shiny surfaces. Sadly this trait led to his demise. We have shiny bases on the stools in our kitchen and he would love to talk with the budgies in the reflection. Last Saturday morning (Dec. 15), he was on the floor in the kitchen while my daughter (now 18 and in 1st year nursing) was studying for her last exam. She said "be careful, Vi is on the floor". I turned to go up the stairs but ventured too close to the table base and he was spooked and skittered away from the base and under my shoe as I stepped down. He squawked at me, then flew to the kitchen sink, but unable to hold himself up flew to his cage where he was unable to stand and held himself there with his beak. We were terrified and my daughter knew from her medical knowledge that his state was dire. There were sobs and tears from all of us as he passed away in her hands moments later.
That afternoon, we buried our little buddy in the back yard beside our mint patch.
We have cleaned and removed his cage to the basement while we grieve. The house is silent without him and we are ever mindful of his absence.
I have been unable to concentrate on my work and go to sleep each night racked by sadness and guilt. My family are kind and don't blame me for his death as it truly was an accident and we can all point to ways that it could have been avoided. But the fact remains that he is dead and this beautiful intelligent little creature is gone forever. Death is a horrible thing - there is no Hollywood ending. So I soldier on, working through the grief of losing my little buddy. Wanting to get a new one, but knowing that really I just want a return of the little guy and that it's too soon to get a new pet.
So, please don't beat yourself up about your accident. Know that we live with these little fragile creatures and those of us who are blessed to know and live with them, have learned that we are only co-tenants on this planet earth with other animals. That we have the ability to recognize their value and to bond with them is precious. But it comes at a price because when they die, we also are wounded by that loss - more so when some action on our part, however innocent, results in their premature death. But we do go on, and this loss can motivate us to rise to greater things as we use the grief and consciousness of their value to seek to help other animals who need our help and to share our awareness of the preciousness of the life of our co-inhabitants in a world that seeks to put a dollar value on it.
I am barely holding it together as I write this so forgive me the disjointed response. I just want you to know that what you are not alone. What you are feeling is completely normal and in fact a good sign, that you are a caring and empathetic human being. We will all get through this, and while the sadness of the loss of our pets will never entirely leave us, it will diminish with time and we will continue to do our best to live together with our fellow creatures.
All the best,
John
