Snippets of Grief

 Are you there, behind the scenes somewhere, orchestrating something for Summer? Oh please, let this work out. 

 You have left me with the most heartbreaking decision I could possibly have to make around all of this. The one piece of you, the one thing I had that I could do for you, and I have to decide what happens to her next -- knowing I cannot keep her.

 I have had no words. I miss you, I miss the way you understood what I was saying. I miss your warmth behind me. I hate that you're not here. 

 I'm so tired of being so alone in the world. I've always been alone, but never more so without you. I'm so sorry I wasn't enough for you, either.

 How could you do this to us?

Today I can't stop crying. You're supposed to be here, you damn asshole. I've lost so much already, why you too? And because I've lost you, I have to lose Summer, too. 

 November 22. The end of this year has just been a blur. I'm in short stay again, respite, whatever you want to call it. Y is having a sleep, then we're going to get dinner and go to a movie. I still feel guilty that you and I never quite made it to a movie in the end. I did want to, I hope you know that. Equally, I hope I stop feeling guilty every time I see one with someone else.

 It's been 7 weeks today, since I was told you died. One minute I think I'm going along okay, and then bam, it slams into me with the force of a thousand oncoming trains. You're dead. Gone. You're not coming back.

 Your dog had diarrhoea again yesterday, by the way. I had hoped she was all better, but no, another 5am clean up on aisle floor. Other than that, so much has happened that I haven't written to you about. Some days it feels like everything is on slow-motion, and other days zoom by so fast I don't have time to blink. The littles are starting to realise you are really gone. It's breaking my heart all over again as I explain to them that no, you aren't coming back. Summer has gone for her first sleepover with her new family. She went last night and I haven't heard anything back since, so I guess she's going pretty well. I met another new support worker, H. She's great. You would have liked her too, I think, though her high energy might have worn you out. Summer loved her, and midway through was trying to lick her face.

 Why is it always me who winds up cleaning up your dog's diarrhoea? This was a terrible wake up call, and of course, once again, I blame you, bootless mother-rag.

Andrea Gibson - The Day You Died Because You Wanted To

 The Acute Care Team asked me if I thought my grief was progressing "normally" today. What does that even mean? You're the person I'm supposed to ask these things of; you're the one who helps me figure out what's normal and what's not. PS, K has a bit of ESP going on. I told her to tell you you're a bastard.

 I'm home from respite now. I don't know why, but it suddenly hit me, on the drive, that I'll never again feel your arms around me while we sleep, the warm press of your body against my back. You won't irritate or itch me by lightly stroking my skin in that way that you did until I'd get too annoyed and make you stop. I never thought that would be something I'd miss, but there you go, you ill-natured malt-horse.

 Your cake was delicious. I told Y about you a little bit. It was good to have a laugh at how innocent your ideas about Summer were, in the beginning. Remember how you were horrified at her sleeping in the crate instead of your bed? Goofus. Or remember how you were going to leave her home by herself while you went off to work, on her second day with you? Yeah. Your unit would've been absolutely *destroyed*, wouldn't it? Speaking of destroyed, K says she got into the bin today... PS, F is having some computer issues, and you're meant to be here to tell us how to fix it, you bastard.

 Since you're not here, that means I get to eat your piece of birthday cake as well as my own. I may buy you a birthday present that I give to myself, too. I'm not sure yet. I probably shouldn't. Your death is causing me to get fatter & go broke, I hope you realise.

 Happy birthday, ferretfeatures. I can't believe it was only 43 days ago that my world was turned upside down; and I can't believe it was so long ago, either. Mostly I still can't really believe you're gone. Will I ever? Your dog's fine, by the way. She was goofy as hell for a while, slept it off, and now she's all good. Thanks for looking out for her (I know you were).

Your idiot dog got into K's pills today while we were both out. She's been induced to vomit, she's got charcoal pills, and she's sprawled across the floor doped out of her mind. You have only yourself to blame, tattleface.

The space of you is a black hole in the world, consuming me.

 You have left me here with so many questions haunting me.

 Summer had another visit to her new home, yesterday. With me there, she was a less frightened than last time, but I'm really starting to wonder if it might not be better for us all if we just moved her in there and let her adjust. I wish you were here to tell us what was best -- but of course, if you were, we wouldn't need to do this, would we, dishface?

 I haven't written in a few days, but don't think for a minute that I have forgotten you. You are in every moment of every day, for all that you're gone. You've been re-christened "that bastard!", as I'm sure you've heard.

 You were my defender for these silly internet arguments, when you felt I was being wronged. Now I only have myself, again, and we both know I question everything. I'm a rubbish defender for myself, you're supposed to be here for that, frog-knuckle.

 Today is a sad day. Even the sky is crying. Your dog is asleep on my couch, the music is playing, the world is muted. You're meant to be here too, sprawled across the couch. I keep looking over, like I think I'm going to see you there, but there's just Missy.

 Even Costco is filled with reminders of you. A Lego advent calendar. A calligraphy kit. My Popcorners (who am I meant to give those awful cheese ones to, now?) You're everywhere, and nowhere, all at the same time.

 I miss your guidance, numbnuts. How am I supposed to know what the right thing to do is, without you here to bounce things off?

 The little reminders are everywhere. Most of all, they're in the moments I go to tell you something specific; or I think I haven't seen you for a while, I better give you a call; or just the sheer space of you missing in my life.

 Notes from yesterday, because I was too tired to write to you. 1. You bastard! There are easier ways to get out of putting up the Christmas lights, you know. 2. Seriously, who's gonna buy me a birthday cake now? 3. You're supposed to be here to do all this stuff with, slimebiscuit.

 Things I'm not sure I've told you lately: 1. Yesterday, my internet wasn't working again. I remembered what you tried last time, and I tried that, and it didn't work. Then I rebooted, and that did. You'd have laughed so hard at my ineptitude, but you'd also have been proud of me for figuring it out. 2. Your dog took me for a walk yesterday. I thought I'd try your old trick, and I looped the lead around me to use my weight as an anchor. Yeah, turns out I also needed your coordination. Cue the face-plant and slight drag. 3. Summer got into K's Up & Go packets today. There was chocolate milk all over the floor. Still, as things go, we both/all know that that was pretty mild, since they were alone from like 12ish. 4. I haven't really played Ovipets since you died. I want to. I try to. But I just... don't. I'm doing research for the new mutations, and I've hatched and bred a handful of eggs, but that's about it. I haven't even sta

 It's been a full calendar month since you left. And that's still how I think of it, so much -- "left", like you took a walk and you'll be back any day now. I don't know how, but life goes on going on. Summer had her first visit at her new home yesterday. Did you see how frightened she was? That, if nothing else, would have made you want to be here again, I know it would have. She still needs you. So do I.

 I opened this up to write to you today and it was 11:11, on the dot. That feels significant, but I don't know why. In other news, you may have heard - K just called you a bastard since you aren't here to read the mahjong rules. I'm so proud.