It’s been 6 days. 6 days since you burrowed your nose into my arm. 6 days since I cuddled you on the couch, barely able to breathe unless I felt your weight on my chest. 6 days since I watched your brother groom you gently, knowing something was wrong.
This has been a long 6 days.
No more fluid infusions late at night. No more coaxing you to take your medicine. No more waking in the middle of the night, anxiety mounting until I felt you breathing next to me.
But that means no more joints aching. No more being so tired that you need to lay down after a short jaunt across the house. It means endless sunbeams and soft blankets to burrow into. It means not having to share the chicken or roast beef with anyone else. It means an endless game of fetch with pipe cleaners and hair ties.
You were the greatest Christmas present. I miss you so much it hurts, and I worry constantly that I didn’t do nearly enough for you.
I miss you Freya. I love you more than life itself. And I hope you lead the gang when I get to see you all again.
