Report Blog Entry
I wish I had more time. I thought I did; in January we had 5 to 6 years estimated with him going over the average life expectancy. Then in February we found the tumour. Then in March, he couldn’t move his back legs or go to the toilet. Then in April, he waited till after my birthday to stop functioning.
I hate the number 2 + 1. It’s dangerous. Every time a 2 + 1 enters my age suddenly it’s one tragedy after another. I’m willing to skip my 20 + 10s or repeat my twenties again.
The room still smells like piss, his stuff still smells like him, my blanket still smells like him. I told myself “don’t expect to see him there” but I got excited, braced myself for screaming anyway. My face fell when I saw his bed was empty. At dinner time I got out of bed to get his dinner ready and to go find him. I picked up the food then put it back down as I remembered he’s not here anymore.
Already my head is filled with voices he chased away, with paranoia he chased away. It’s all coming back so quickly. I didn’t think I’d break but I did.
Comments
Displaying 0 of 0 comments ( View all | Add Comment )