Seven weeks ago, on Tuesday night, January 25, I said goodnight to you for the last time. I got my last hug from you while you rested your head on my shoulder and whispered, "Momma." Oh, how I miss you. The reality of your loss has become all too real to me and Tuesdays are just painful. I know the grief will never go away completely, but I hope it begins to subside.
I have promised to honor you through memories, stories and joy. As I sit here with Zeke (our cat) sitting on my lap I remember your joy in seeing this furry creature and realizing he was YOURS! One of your first phrases, said with utter delight was, "Hi Kittah Kah!" Zeke always steered himself into you, never away, regardless of what kind of whack you had given him previously. I think he knew better than we could have guessed just how much you adored him.
Tomorrow is Wednesday. With the coming of 6am comes a flood of awful, horrific memories. Not how I want to remember you. Please, visit me tonight with your hugs and laughter.
I love you - to the moon and back.