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the journey of grief
Singing Agathe
wilowisp
It's been two weeks now since we lost Buttons. The constant fits of crying have tapered of, the oppressive grief has lifted slightly. I do not walk through my day in a haze of pain. The emotions well to the surface when I am tired, or when I speak aloud about him, or when I dwell on his empty food dish or his undisturbed leash, both of which I simply cannot bear to put away. But such moments are becoming more rare.

And in that, I am awash with guilt and self-hatred.

It has been only two weeks since we lost Buttons, my baby boy, and I want my grief to still be a tangible force, ripping away at me. I want to know that he meant SOMETHING, and the only way I can think is to wear the pain as a constant reminder of him. I fear that in losing my grief, I am losing him for a second time, and he deserves so much more than that. And yet, all the suffering I might push myself through, it does not change that he is gone and we are left here without him, struggling to redefine our family.

His vet made a donation in his name to the advancement of animal science. It was so unexpected, so touching, the card took my breath away and left me in a heap. That is how I should honor his memory - I should do right in this world in his name.

And I must hold my Zipper close, and love her for who she is. I have anxieties now, about her being alone in the house. About her anxieties. Andy talks about getting her another companion, and I simply cannot stand the thought. But am I being selfish?

His collar is on my altar now. It hurts to move it, because the jingle of the tags stings my heart with so much memory of him.
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Many hugs. Grief is a strange journey. I don't know if it really means anything, but I think of you as a more beautiful person for experiencing it instead of avoiding it.

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