It’s the 25th of the month.

Maybe that won’t stand out to me as much after the first year or maybe it always will, who knows.

It’s been 11 months without him. I haven’t seen or heard him recently, he hasn’t been in my dreams. I miss him. Sometimes I even get angry with him for not staying longer or angry with myself for not doing more. It’s irrational but I guess that’s grief. There really isn’t much I wouldn’t do to have him back. And there isn’t a minute of the day I’m not thinking about him.

Last month I felt strong enough to donate his chaise. I brought it to the local cat cafe where kitties can use it and take fun pictures laying on it. When I went for a visit I saw that there was a banana on it. I teared up and took it as a sign that I’d made the right choice and he was happy other kitties could enjoy it now.My bond with Lucy is special and strong, she’s the best girl. Unfortunately, my anticipatory grief and anxiety are at an all time high.  Leaving her is so hard because I’m afraid  that I’ll lose her suddenly or I won’t spend all my time with her or, worse, she’ll pass when I’m not there.  She’s perfectly healthy though and although there’s no reason to worry, I do.

It’s complicated and painful, something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.