Snippets of Grief

 How do I get the photos off my phone onto my computer? You're supposed to be here to show me, nugget-head.

 It's almost scary how often I go to ask or show you something, still. Will I ever get used to the space of you?

 It's been 4 weeks since they told me you died. Exactly 4 weeks since I found myself standing outside your unit, crying lightly, and shaking; Summer hiding terrified beneath the bed that still supported your empty body - empty because you were gone from us all by then. 4 weeks and this still feels like a nightmare I have yet to wake from.

 Summer helped us clean the bedroom, today. Your dog is sweet and cute and funny, but fucking annoying sometimes. You should have seen her while we were trying to pack away Missy's crate (because we don't need two crates in the bedroom right now). PS, last night I forgot for a few moments, and got you a cookie dough pop. Don't worry, I ate it on your behalf. It was delicious.

 We're going to Bite Markets tonight. I wish you were coming with us, or here with the dogs, or just... somewhere. I wish you were still somewhere. It hurts that you aren't, you damned bin trumpet.

 I am so much more alone without you.

 I wish you had known -- it was never that you weren't enough. It was always, always, that I wasn't.

 By the way, jerkbox, your dog has cost me around $300 this fortnight. Most of that was food and worming, of course, but she did eat yet another harness. Mmm, tastytasty.

 You were supposed to be the first offline person who stayed, you absolute branch-kicker.

 I still need you, poop-garden. I took Missy to our vet to get her groomed today - they turned us away. If you hadn't left, you would have shaved her while we wait to get in at PetBarn, but no, you checked out. Why you and not me? I don't understand, shrimp-writhel.

 I didn't write you yesterday. I was too tired after M visited. We took the dogs for a pack walk -- were you watching? How you must have laughed; K off ahead with Missy, little Mb waddling along, and Summer dragging me along in spurts. Walking her is definitely supposed to be your job, trashjockey.

 There are so many questions left unanswered. So many things I still want to ask you, and so many things I need to ask you, now. Are you happy? Are you at peace? Is this my fault, the way it feels, the way it seems, the way some others think? Did you blame me?

 I'm struggling. A lot. This is when I would think about texting you and saying, "please come over" or I'd make you go on ovipets with me, or I'd make bad decisions knowing that if I wanted you to, you'd be here in a heartbeat. And now I'm struggling, and I'm trying so hard to be good, and you're not here to call, you damned spleen callet.

 I forgot to tell you, they announced the Halloween mutations on Ovipets. I wonder if you would have liked them. Nothing new for the horses (sorry), but hedgies got adorable pumpkin mutes, and the lupus have leaf ones.

 F back at work today after her break. We talked about your funeral, and you, and all those little reminders that hurt. We went to Redcliffe, so I showed her where they held your service. I want to visit you, wherever you are, on your birthday. But I still don't know where that is. I fucking miss you, jerkfarm.

 How can it be 21 days since you left? That's three whole weeks. Sometimes it feels like forever, sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday. I saw your boss at the shop, today. She looked desperately sad and I wonder if it was about you or something else. I wanted to come home and tell you, so you could talk to her on Monday and make sure she was okay.

 Sometimes I want to shout that I hate you, just to see if it changes anything. (I don't hate you. I'm still not even mad at you, but I imagine that will come, in time.) I can't believe you are making me have feelings - that's just like you, ya bastard.

 Reminders and links to you that have made me cry today: birthday cake. My support service. Your dog. A Minecraft advent calendar. The advent calendar I wanted last year. Your dog again. Tonight was meant to have been our night away with the dogs, fungus-bucket.

 I miss your perspective, dumpster-hound. How am I meant to know what the next right thing is, when I don't have your thoughts to help me make sense of everything?

 Don't think because I haven't posted, I haven't been thinking about you. So many of my "there's a hole in the world" moments occur when I'm not here at the computer.

 People on the internet are self-diagnosing again, and now poor K is subject to my rants, instead of you. Pretty sure she's less happy about this than you would be, mushroom head.

 I went to Silly Sollies & the Golden Circle factory outlet today. Everywhere there were reminders that you are gone; so many foods I would have bought to share with you, or for you to eat here. Plus, who's going to eat the things I buy to try and don't like, now? That was your job, butt-canoe.

 I keep thinking of things I want to say to you, or questions I want to ask your answers for. Most of all, I want to know what you were thinking, and did you know how loved you are?

 I thought I'd be consumed with pain at losing you, but instead, more often than not, there is just a bleak nothingness, an empty hole inside me that I cannot fill (but I keep trying, with chocolate). You're making me fat, I hope you know.

 It just feels like a regular Monday; me here, at the computer with the two dogs, and you off at work.

 We discovered my fish dead, this morning. Did you get lonely, beefwit?

 Would this have happened if I hadn't opened Pandora's Box?

 I just want to hear your voice again, listen to you sing, or laugh, or tell Summer off. You've never even left me a voicemail I could listen to, you trash-sucking strumpet.

 You're supposed to be here to laugh with me at the audacity of some people, you bone-headed clotpole.

 There's a stone in my stomach. You're really never going to ask me to check your back, again. Butt breath.

 Summer's being rough and destructive today. She needs you to come and play with her the way only you can. We all need you still, jerk face.

 How can you just be gone, no longer here? You and Missy and Summer are my family . Just because I couldn't be what you needed, give what you needed, doesn't mean I don't love you, you knob jockey.

 I didn't write to you yesterday, not because I didn't have anything to say, but because I had too much, and today was your service. There are so many things unsaid.

 I just caught Summer eating K's shoe again. Thankfully, it's the one she already destroyed so I don't have to buy K a third replacement pair. Still, I hope you know this is entirely your fault, horse butt.

 Summer is snoring. For a minute, I thought it was you.

 Red Rooster for dinner and I forgot all about my chips. Who's gonna eat them for me now that they're cold and you're not here? Not happy, Jan.

 So many random pieces of memories are going through my mind tonight. You're supposed to be here, knuckle-brain.

 I had therapy today, and we talked a little about you. Dr M showed me a "stages of grief" video with a giraffe that you would have laughed at too. It made me think about the time we watched Bob Newhart's Stop It on youtube. So yeah. Don't be dead anymore, okay? Just Stop. It.

 Just remembered you still owe me from the backpack I bought you, and the last few things I got for your dog. So rude.

 I just finished writing the first draft of the eulogy I will read at your funeral. I need you here to look over it for me, to tell me if it's okay. I can't even turn this into a joke, you donkey fedora, you.

Beginning Snippets, I struggle with where to host it, and how to design it in a minimalistic & suitable manner. I need you to look at it, you damned butthead.