Scottie's absence continues to haunt me. The absurdly peaceful way in which he died gives way to an emptiness and longing to have his companionship back. To lift him up beside me once again, where he would nestle between my hip and the couch cushion.Repeating our morning routine of gentle waking play, his being carried to the backyard as a ritual born from his age compromise joint issues only to be followed by his sprinting into the kitchen by way of the half step I built to accommodate that same limitation, spinning effortlessly in anticipation of his breakfast. My subsequent returning him up to rest against Jen beneath the warm covers of the bed we three shared. There would have been no better way to have had him die than how he did, while some many far more traumatic deaths could have occurred. We gave him a loving home, and he in return made the home loving, bringing us more joy and comfort than I knew possible. Why does it hurt so much, even though I saw it coming, anticipated it and accepted it as a given? How can I stay connected to all that is and was positive about the 6+ years we had and move forward with immense gratitude balanced against this heartache and grief? And, most importantly, how do I integrate this experience into my life, into my relationships with others, and into my ability to navigate what could be another 2 or 3 decades of recursively experiencing the loss of others far more significant than a pet might be in comparison. Assuming of course that I myself am not the basis for an empty chair and glasses raised in a toast to the irony behind all my ruminations.
⚖️ 173.9(+0.4) ❤️61(59-110) 👣 5,201/2.4mi
⚖️ 173.9(+0.4) ❤️61(59-110) 👣 5,201/2.4mi