I'm not sure why "anniversaries" are important or meaningful for humans - moreso for some than others - but this morning I awoke after what was probably the first real sleep since Danny died, and realized that three weeks ago today would be the last normal morning - normal as it could be with the rising worry about his bleeding - of our long, beautiful, in-spirited life together. The last day he'd push the chairs around, ram his head in the fridge, trot over (yes he still trotted) to get his medicine cookie, the last day I'd stand at the back door and watch him go pee (blood, all f###ng blood) the last day I'd dole out the chicken gizzards, liver and then coax some roast chicken into him for his breakfast. The last day ever he would retire to his kitchen bed to snooze after his meal while I stood here working.
The last (quasi) normal day of our shared years, our heart-joined, love infused 14 1/2 years.
In a million years I never expected it would be the last day.
This is the sweet little face I hold so close, cherished so deeply. His little foot there just wrenches my heart.
I miss you my darling, with every breath, every tear, every beat of my heart.
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