Welcome back to my grief livestream. Other than working, I've not really known what to do with myself this week except be in my feelings. Writing it down has become part of my process so I'll keep doing it. I know this is supposed to be a chronic illness blog, but a tangential relation is the physical impact of grieving. I don't think it's a coincidence that I've been struck down by some kind of lurgy.
I've been feeling drained all week; coughing, swollen throat, fluey, but it isn't Covid. I think all the stress and sadness just further lowered by body's defences.
It's been a week since we had THE PHONE CALL with Cloud 9 Vets. Sense of time is a weird thing. I've had these feelings of panic and anxiety that each day is taking me further and further away from when Aragorn was alive and it almost feels like losing him all over again. It's like I'm trying to run away from the reality.
I'm so desperate to remember his face and meow, the feel of his fur and ridiculous ears. The way his tail thumped and his cupboard love nuzzles to push my book out of my hands and feed him. If I had my laptop with me on the sofa, that wouldn't stop him from settling in for a cuddle. He would insert himself under my arm and snuggle into my side.
It's like I'm treading water. I haven't been able to wash the dress I was wearing when he slipped away. I haven't been able to read. I'll settle down intending to, but Aragorn used to sit with me all the time. Getting comfortable on the sofa and opening a book invariably included him jumping into my lap.
I don't have my usual excitement about Hallowe'en. My costume wig arrived days ago and I haven't even opened it. I just feel listless. Two big parts of my life, reading and Hallowe'en, that I usually derive great joy and comfort from, just feel wrong.
Adam is right, I think. We're feeling the loss hard right now. We can't think of him without missing him. We're not even close to the point of being able to enjoy memories yet because we're just feeling his absence so brutally. I'm crying all the time. It doesn't take much. I'll be feeling kind of cold and lethargic, and then out of nowhere I'll be in the grip of the BIG FEELINGS and there's no getting away from the reality of him not being here.
I'm giving Hardy extra attention because he must feel the change in the house too. I'm not comparing Hardy to Aragorn. They were always two very different cats, but sometimes it's difficult because the differences can bring the absence into even sharper relief. I wouldn't change Hardy for anything. He is such a beautiful, loving boy. I just miss my Worny.
I've been bombarded with thoughts of lasts and firsts. We didn’t know last Hallowe'en and Christmas would be THE last with him, giving him his last tuna treat, last lap cuddle, last film night.
Now we're going to be dealing with the series of firsts. First week without him. First Hallowe'en and Christmas. First book without him in my lap.
I am grateful for his ashes. The urn is beautiful and perfect but it does sucker-punch me to look at it. It still doesn't compute that he's ashes in an ornament and not looking up at me from his bed.
I still get caught out when I look towards where his bed was and he isn't there.
I know as time goes on, it will become a weight that I will carry more easily. It won't be so raw and immediate and devastating.
It's funny, you think because you've been through loss before that you'll be more prepared. But also it's complete nonsense to think that. The grief will be as unique as the soul you are grieving.
In the end, as painful as that is, it's probably right that the loss feels like a different monster.
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