64.1

 It's been a big couple of days. I wish you were here to talk to, but of course, if you were here to talk to, some of this hurt wouldn't need to be talked about.

Your children all have been by in the last couple of days to say their goodbyes to Summer, because we - as I am sure you know - organised H to take her. She's just gone. I feel like I failed you, that I couldn't keep her longer; and I feel so sad that she's not here anymore - not just for her own goofy sake, but because there's another piece of you gone.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Day 10.2: your eulogy

 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.
Read more

22.3

 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.
Read more

73.1

 Almost all I have done for the past few days has been sleep. I don't know if it's mental or physical or both, but today... today was different. Today we visited your girl in her new home, and I know you were there too. I don't understand why I almost never feel you, but maybe it's because I feel you in laughter, and deeper joy, and there's been so little of that. Whatever it is. You were there today and Summer was herself, and it was a precious day. Thank you for giving me what I needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Read more