I feel so foolish.
I didn’t even feel that sad today. Nothing spectacular happened that made me wish you were here. I spoke with a friend I hadn’t seen in a few months. Her dog passed recently, too. She had the pleasure of loving her dog for 16 years. I’m entirely jealous.
She said she was amazed I could talk about what happened and to be honest I’ve been shocked myself at how easy it’s gotten to tell your story. I go through it matter of factly. It just happened. There was nothing we could do. The more I tell it, the less the tears well up.
But then I got home. Hours later. Hours. I walked in the door and I lost my breath. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I put on one of Papa’s sweatshirts and walked out to your grave in my slippers. I kneeled there but had nothing to say but I miss you.
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
I miss you more than words can say and tear stained faces can show. I kissed your stone and before I realized it I was sitting in your corner of the living room. Waterfalls gushing from my eyes. Painful sobs that come from your gut and violently shake your body on their way out. I sat there. Holding my knees.
When I managed to catch what felt like the first breath of air I’d ever swallowed, I looked up. It dawned on me that I have never sat there before. The couch looked so far away. Much to far for a loving pup to be resting from his lazy parents. The distance made me feel so guilty. How could we let you sit so far away for so long? The distance made me feel like we didn’t deserve you. You deserved better parents. Ones that would actually take you on a walk every day instead of just meaning to. Ones that maybe didn’t let you sit on the couch but set up your bed closer so you could be with them. Ones who let you sleep on the bed every night and not just when it was your birthday or when they felt like it.
I don’t know what else to say.
This week is Thanksgiving. Quinn will be staying home as usual. I was really looking forward to traveling for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year since you would be coming with us. You had so much room in the new car and we needed to make up for not being able to take you to North Carolina for the wedding. We did wish you were there. Now, I wish you were here. In the living room with me. On the couch.