6 months

I woke up in a foul mood this morning. I knew last night that I would. It is so hard for me to believe that today is six months. Six very long months since sweet Mr. Triangle Face left me. It seems like it should feel like a long time, but I don’t feel it. Not at all. It seems like yesterday. I passed my hand over his lovely wooden box, kissed it, and said a prayer for his peace and happiness on the other side.

I thought about telling Ed how I felt this morning, but then realized that it wouldn’t really make a difference. This intense grief and longing for a dog I knew for only 20 months has to be dealt with on my own. He loved Nick as much as I did, but for whatever reason our grief process has not been similar.

Nick’s presence is still so very fresh in my memories. That in and of itself is comforting, but it also makes my grieving process that much more difficult for me. I see him everywhere. I feel his presence and his spirit. When I’m steaming broccoli at work for my lunch, I think of my sweet boy. How he used to feverishly dance for his stinky broccoli. Cutting a red delicious apple for a snack, and there Nick stands before me in my mind, wagging and deliriously happy.

I wear glasses and people swear that I’m going deaf, but my sense of smell has always been true. And I can’t forget Nick’s scent. It lingers in the breezy corners of my mind. Even now I can tell the difference between Milo’s scent on my hands vs. Achilles’ scent. But, alas, much to Ed’s dismay, I can’t hear the television unless it’s set to volume number 30 (out of 50)----at least.

All vegetables remind me of him. We shared that insatiable passion for anything green, crispy and delicious…green beans, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, zucchini, spinach, celery, Swiss chards, you name it. We did not discriminate. No siree. Equal opportunity veggie eaters are what we were. I'd roast a crazy assortment of veggies every so often and the two of us were the only ones who'd eat them.

Of course, there was also fruit! Apples, bananas, pears and blueberries were his absolute favorite. And yogurt! Boy did we both love our yogurt or what? I’ll dip just about anything in plain boring yogurt. And Nick was always there to partake. Sweet baby.

I’d get home from work and we both knew dinner was not for a while. I’d grab some veggies or fruit. Nick and I would dance to the music of the evening news. We’d sit together and enjoy our pre-dinner snack, dipped in yogurt of course. I’d tell him about my day. He’d listen attentively. Then we’d go on a walk. The NBC evening news song still reminds me of our dancing time.

I love my Achilles and my Milo. Only God knows how much I just adore them. We make our own beautiful (and new) memories every day we're together and I wouldn't trade that for all the money on earth. But, they are also one of the reasons my grieving for Nick has been so difficult. They remind me of him for all the obvious reasons, but also because every once in a while they’ll do something that makes me think it’s Nick there all over again. Like when Achilles pressed his head to my leg. Or when every once in a while Milo eats an apple with me (he’s not into apples as much as Nick was). Any number of reasons. They are beautiful, angelic blessings in my life, juxtaposed with the reminders that they are.

It’s also true that they entered my life so quickly after Nick that I don’t think I’ve really made any progress in coming to terms with his passing. My heart hurts as much today as it did the day I held Nick’s sweet face, when he took his last warm breath of life. People told me it would get easier with time. Well, it has not. Not one bit. People didn’t know what they were talking about apparently.

I would trade my life for Achilles and Milo if I could. That sounds melodramatic and a tad insane, no? Well, I don’t care and it doesn't matter. It’s the truth. I would have done the same for Nick. When we cross the street, I put myself between them and the cars at the stop sign. That way I’ll buffer the hit should a car’s brakes fail or something equally as crazy and unexpected. But, while I'm crazy for my Golden duo, I still miss and ache for Nick. I wish he were here with me every day. I wish he had enjoyed the Christmas roasted turkey with Achilles and Milo. I wish, I wish, I wish.

Gosh, I prayed so hard so many times that I could carry the burden of Nick’s cancer for him. My heart broke into millions of shattered bits watching him bear his pain---witnessing his struggle against such an evil, evil force. I fucking hate cancer. I do. I do. I do. I suppose everyone hates cancer. The energy I need to conjure up just to hate something so deeply leaves me exhausted and drained. It’s just awful.

Speaking of energy, Mindy has a quote on her blog: “Energy (love) is never lost; it only changes from one form to another.” She wrote eloquently of pets she has lost, many of them Golden Retrievers. The quote should bring solace and peace to the grieving. I love the quote. The idea that Nick’s energy and love continues is beautiful. I believe it continues in Achilles and Milo, and also Captain Morgan.

Now, I am just waiting for that idea to bring me some solace and peace. I’m still waiting because my pain hasn’t subsided. I’m still waiting because my anger at the unfairness of it all threatens my peace of mind. I hurt as much, if not more, today as I did six months ago. I’m just waiting for what people have told me will happen, that it will get easier as time passes.

Well, it’s been six months and I miss you, Nick. I miss you so much, all the time. It has not become easier.