Eight Twenty-One Two Thousand Fifteen

I can try to prepare myself for the expected. I can bite back the sting of tears when the alarm goes off and I don’t feel the pressure of little paws on the bed, even when the alarm is listed as “Feed The Cat”. I can take a deep breath before approaching the table with the collection of cat toys, food, and grooming items. I can choose to dwell on the fact that the weight of her body is missing from my lap, or I can remember all the cute things she did and the special moments we shared when she was there.

But the things I didn’t expect are what wash over me today. Opening the laundry room door to find a clean floor, no litter box, no litter mat, no scoop. Driving with the windows open and watching fur float out into the world. Finding a flea comb in the medicine cabinet. Looking through pictures and finding a video I forgot I took of her rubbing her face on my phone during phase 2 of Operation Feed Me. Moving my hair and catching a finger on the scratch she left on my collarbone.

I have cried a lot today. From big belly sobs to silent tears that I can’t stop. But there have been pinpricks of relief as well. Watching a show on YouTube and laughing without feeling guilty. Feeling my baby move in my belly and watching Shelby’s face when he felt her too. Words of support and encouragement from family and friends across the country.

Yesterday was the worst day. The obvious sickness and feeling so helpless, the news, the decision, the follow through, the emptiness and despair that sat on my body like an elephant. 8/21/2015 was my worst day. Each day will get a little better. A little easier. There will be minutes that leave us breathless and destroyed, but we made it through the worst day.

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