Snippets of Grief

 You bastard, you're supposed to be here. You're meant to be the one who takes the dogs to the vet, you know that. Missy has an abscess or a boil or something, and I need to figure out how to take her. Fuck you (aka, one more reason to miss the hell out of you).

 Sometimes, the most not-about-you things remind me of you. Today is K's birthday, and all I can think about is all the "old" jokes I teased her with on the way to San Churro last year, and I don't even know if you went -- but I think of you anyway.

 I'm sliding deeper into myself without you here. I don't know if anyone else has even noticed, let alone cares. I want to follow you. PS, H says Summer's crazy side swimming is seizures. I feel so guilty that we missed it.

 Damn you. Just. Damn you.

 My first birthday without you, and of course there has been sadness, and memories of you, and spaces where you were missing. Still, there have also been moments of beauty, and kindness, and love. Your youngest wished me a happy birthday - from herself and you. That was really touching. K bought me a birthday cake, since you weren't here to do it. That, too, was deeply touching.

 It was supposed to be me, you bastard.

 I can't believe it's been more than 100 days, more than three months, since I heard your voice. I miss it. I miss you. I even miss the stupid damn tractor game you used to play. I hope you can see what you have brought me to, you buzzard-brief door knocker.

 It's Summer's birthday today, and because of you, she's not here to celebrate with us, and nor are you. I'm angry-sad. Or maybe just sad. I miss you both, so damn much.

 I'm sorry I haven't written lately. I don't know what's going on with me, I'm just exhausted all the time. I've been talking to you in my head, instead of on here. I haven't - not for one minute - stopped missing you, but I don't cry all the time I think of you anymore. Lots of it, still, but not all of it.