I never truly understood the void, the deafening silence, caused by the absence of something.
I desperately want to write him the tribute he deserves but all I can feel right how is the unbearable sadness every time I realize he’s not here.
When I woke up this morning I gently stretched out my legs because Kumo is always either at the foot of the bed, or on the bed directly next to our bed. I blinked a few times to look at my bed, then his bed. And he wasn’t there.
And then I remembered.
I kept listening the familiar knock of the baby gate as he came into my office to sleep beside me all day on his bed in there. Most mornings I slip him a cat treat or two. I had the bag of treats ready to go. But he never came.
As I sat in the bathroom at lunch time I kept listening for the little click clack of his feet and then the long deep sniff under the door to confirm I was in there. I sat and sobbed and wished so hard just to hear his feet. But they never came.
I laid out on the back patio to listen to the sounds and feel the warmth. I instinctively reached over to give him a butt scratch but was just met with empty chair. Because he’s not here anymore.
I physically can’t force myself to clean the kitchen. He would stand for so long just outside the kitchen that he’d start to sleep standing up. So I have a bed there. When I know I’m going to be in there for awhile I get him to lay on the bed and then we talk while I cook dinner or clean. I tell him how my day was and ask about his. I ask his opinions on what we should watch on TV. We complain about the current state of the world. He sleeps through all of this, of course, but when I stop talking he wakes up and lifts his head to make sure I haven’t left. So I start talking again to let him know I’m there and he can go back to sleep.
But he won’t be there and I don’t think my heart can physically handle the empty floor where he should be.
I am so. fucking. sad.
He’s not here.
That won’t change.
I know this will pass. I know that time will heal me. I know we had so many lucky extra days after his cancer diagnosis. I know I’m so thankful that we had the opportunity to be here with him every single day these last few years.
Please know that I am indescribably thankful for all the messages, comments, photos, and stories about our boy. It helps the tiniest bit to know that we’re not alone in this. Ben has been an absolute rock the last 24 hours. I see my pain echoed in his face and we allow each other to cry, to talk, to remind each other how lucky we were to be loved by him.
I’ll eventually be back to blowing up your timelines but for right now, I just need to be sad.
I need to feel this.
I love you all.