It’s the change in tense that’s the hardest. From is to was. From love to loved. And it’s because for me, the tense hasn’t changed. It will never should, and should never change. Coco is my love. I love her.
A really hard day, you guys. One of the hardest of my life. Right up there with when my brother died tragically. The grief is overwhelming. I feel flattened by it. Spent. Utterly defeated.
She was my everything. Literally every thought of every day took her into account, considered her. Such was the gravity of my love for her, and her for me. I was her everything, too.
It was so hard to see her in such pain in the hospital. That’s the dark thought running through my head right now. That we waited too long. We let the pain get too intense before letting her go. We just didn’t know. It wasn’t on purpose. But the sounds she made, you guys…oh, they just ripped everything out me. There’s nothing left. She made sounds she’d never made before, because she was in pain she’d never felt. I failed her there. I know I can find grace for myself in that it was only for a few minutes, and that she stopped making those noises when she could tell we were there with her. And that we understood what she was asking of us — let me go. And we did that as quickly as we could. But, tonight, in the darkness, that’s the very sad thought my brain can’t let go of. That sound, and how just by hearing it, I’d failed to protect her.
I’m so sorry Coco. Please forgive me.
I hope it helps to write that. There is nothing that brings me solace right now. It’s an endless loop of detachment, intense sadness, remembering her, and trying to care for Liz and Cooper.
We went to our old neighborhood and did our old walk. I wanted to remember Coco. I have this intense fear of forgetting her. Liz helped me write out our daily routine; a couple versions of it anyway. I’m going to add to it as I remember more.
Her blankets still smell like her. I want to smell them all the time, and I am terrified of when they’ll stop smelling like her. That’s the hardest at night, too. She’s supposed to be next to me, happy and snoozing, helping me to go to sleep.
And the mornings are also the hardest. I woke up crying because Coco was always literally the first thing I’d be aware of every morning. Either her sleeping peacefully by my head, or her lifting her head or standing up because she was ready to start morning routine. She wasn’t there this morning, and it was devastating.
Everything is so empty.
And I’m feeling everything.