I’ve died twice.
I died the day my brother took his own life. And I died two days ago when I let Coco go.
What weighs on my chest tonight is that I have to rebuild everything. I am starting over, now. Once again, I must climb the mountain back to joy and inspiration and normalcy. And that mountain is so tall, you guys. It’s so big.
Some of you won’t understand. But, Coco was my everything. Her smell, and her sounds, and the touch of her fur on my fingers, and the sight of her sweet face was what my world was made of. It breathed life into me.
And now I must learn to live again.
The mornings are the hardest, I think. I have to put so much energy into my mornings, be in such a good place to be able to get up and go write and create, then work and eat, and exercise…and I have nothing to give right now. In my weakest hours, I’m hit with a wave of grief because Coco is not next to my pillow, breathing so soft, eyes closed in sweet contentment, sleeping so lightly that I must be quiet so as not to wake her and get her hopes up that I’m carrying her from bed to go potty and eat breakfast. I need her to sleep in bed with Panda for a couple more hours so I can get my writing done and she can sleep.
It literally helped get out of bed, you guys. Just that thought of care. Of the perfect love that she was there next to me, happy and warm, and loving me so much I would excite her just by being awake with her. I had purpose. She was my purpose. And that was the foundation of everything. That purpose lifted me up out of the muck to get my ass out of bed and go write. To be good at my job. To love my wife and my friends and my family. Coco was underneath all of that in the daily, consistent, constant way that literally no other being in my life has ever been. Every. Fucking. Day.
Nights are hard, too. I should be snuggling up on the inside-of-the-bed side of my pillow, and reaching my hand under to feel the weight and warmth of her body rocking me to sleep. Every night. It was bliss. I had it all. I really did. We did. Panda Cooper and me. We were together and more happy than we ever even realized.
It hurts, you guys. So much.
There are moments of respite. I don’t need to exorcise those so much by putting them into words, so they may not make these entries as much, but there are moments in between the grief and the shock where there’s a glimpse beyond all this, where I can see the rest of the world is just…turning. The sun rises and sets. Plumbers still come and fix drains, and friends come over to chat. But, right now, they are just moments. My gravity, right now, is unspeakable pain and loss.
A mountain sits on my chest, and I am flattened.
Coco, I miss you so much. You were everything to me. What I wouldn’t give to have you back.