I knew it was coming; unfortunately that doesn't seem to make this any easier. Here, in the wake of perhaps the worst thing that's ever happened to me/the worst thing I've ever done, I feel empty, hollow, and lost. The emptiness is punctuated by sharp and almost unexpectedly real emotions.
There is an all-encompassing and overwhelming sense of loss that keeps knocking me down as I try to wrap my brain around the idea that Edward doesn't exist anymore. How could someone so important just disappear?
There's the longing, the itch in my fingers for his almost delicate and soft, but not girly "silky," ears, and for his almost coarse coat of thick almost sharp hair that used to give me hives on the insides of my wrists...
The breathless shock, when I "see" him out of the corner of my eye.
The guilt, for putting him down, even though it was the right thing, because I really, really just wanted to say no and take him home.
The regret, for everything undone. Could I have put him on anti-convulsive meds and had him for another few weeks?
The undeniable and childish want. I don't care; I want my dog. I want to rub his gigantic rib cage aka belly; I want to talk to him; I want to see that quizzical and concerned look on his face; I want hear him "purr" that noise between talking back and growling he would make when he was happy, when I talked to him. I want to wrestle and play the way we did when he was younger. I want to cuddle with him in bed.
I want him to fill the 141lb Edward-shaped vacuum in the universe.
I don't care; I want my dog.
What We Found in the Divorce: Part V — Time
2 years ago