High tide
Trying to be productive is hard as 4 or 5 PM hit and I'm reminded that there is no sweet little nose of Fatty that will greet me when I get home. I feel like he still "is" and not "was". I hope to see him when I sleep in my dreams and feel like pictures don't do him justice because they are still and don't capture him.
Four pounds have been lost from stomach aches. Several prayers said with a gaping hole in my heart and each time I do something routine I think "the last time I did this, Fatty was alive."
I want to throw rocks at a wall, or scream. So I scream internally. It is pretty loud. Then the pain swell like a high tide of the ocean starts to go down and fools me into thinking "You're fine, you're over the death, see how quickly the pain passed? On to better days with great memories." But those moments of peace, or a full day of it are deceptive because at 5 PM on a Friday all I want to know is if he is cold, if his fur is still beautiful and soft. The clouds move in the sun-setting sky and I wish I could stop them and stop time and go back to the time and space where we were all together.
What next? Picking up a new hobby, like playing the guitar? It doesn't purr or stalk me. Exercise? No thank you, I'm exhausted enough and never liked it. Drawing? Perhaps, but I'll space out at the first whisker.
I've been looking at Maine Coon kittens online and admiring how fresh life starts when we are all little. I think of Fatty and Bentley when they were tiny and in my heart I give them a little hug.
The tide is high....I look forward to it going back low....
Four pounds have been lost from stomach aches. Several prayers said with a gaping hole in my heart and each time I do something routine I think "the last time I did this, Fatty was alive."
I want to throw rocks at a wall, or scream. So I scream internally. It is pretty loud. Then the pain swell like a high tide of the ocean starts to go down and fools me into thinking "You're fine, you're over the death, see how quickly the pain passed? On to better days with great memories." But those moments of peace, or a full day of it are deceptive because at 5 PM on a Friday all I want to know is if he is cold, if his fur is still beautiful and soft. The clouds move in the sun-setting sky and I wish I could stop them and stop time and go back to the time and space where we were all together.
What next? Picking up a new hobby, like playing the guitar? It doesn't purr or stalk me. Exercise? No thank you, I'm exhausted enough and never liked it. Drawing? Perhaps, but I'll space out at the first whisker.
I've been looking at Maine Coon kittens online and admiring how fresh life starts when we are all little. I think of Fatty and Bentley when they were tiny and in my heart I give them a little hug.
The tide is high....I look forward to it going back low....
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