As of today, you've been gone for 6 months. Each day seems like an eternity without you. My brain still cannot comprehend that you're not here, and keeps trying to convince me that you're just on an extended vacation. I cry everyday. Time isn't healing my wounds, they are still throbbing, itchy, and yes, occasionally oozing.
While 6 months is a completely arbitrary amount of time, it still struck me hard today. In a way it seems like a large amount of time, and in another it's a tiny speck of time. Grief is a harsh task-mistress - whenever I feel like things are getting better, I quickly get smacked back down. Brave face on, facing the world, but underneath all is just a muddy puddle.
You will be happy to know that Bogart takes his Man of the House role seriously. Sometimes too seriously. He had such a fantastic vacation in LA at Casa Mareike where he got to just be a dog - run around a backyard, sleep during the day, and occasionally fight for food - and while I appreciate his increased protectiveness of me, I will work hard so that in the future he gets more "just being a dog" time.
You pop up in my dreams every once in awhile, but always in a supporting role. I'm still waiting for my leading man to return.
Bogart and I miss you SO MUCH