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alexandraerinYesterday, I woke up and Dorian was gone. Today, I woke up and he's still not here, and it's almost as hard to deal with this. He wouldn't always be in bed or even in the same room when morning came, but as soon as he heard me stir even a little, I'd hear the jingle of his bell as he roused himself and then he'd come over and start cuddling, whether I was actually awake by my definition or not.
Last night, I took a stuffed otter off my bookshelf and put it on my pillows thinking it might help to have a furry whiskered face close to me when I slept. Today, while I was getting dressed and adjusting to the fact that this morning ritual that I found so exasperating and endearing was not going to be a part of my life anymore, I looked over and my glance fell on the stuffed animal, curled up right where Dorian would have been.
Yesterday I moved my computer desk into the bay of his bay windows, facing the middle one and between the other two. I rearranged a lot of things in my room yesterday, for a couple of reasons. I wanted to deal with things the litterboxes and his cardboard scratching things and other things before they became a big deal. I didn't want to wake up every morning and see them, or look up from my computer during my work days and look over at the window and be devastated that he wasn't there.
A lot of what I did yesterday was trying to pre-emptively protect myself from Suddenly He's Not There Syndrome. I'm not getting rid of or packing away everything that was his, but I need the room I spend my day in to be my office, not my office/his living room.
Yesterday, I was destroyed. Today, I clean. Tomorrow, I rebuild. Which isn't to say that I'll be done grieving, but that I'd rather be grieving and doing things than grieving and not.
Last night, I took a stuffed otter off my bookshelf and put it on my pillows thinking it might help to have a furry whiskered face close to me when I slept. Today, while I was getting dressed and adjusting to the fact that this morning ritual that I found so exasperating and endearing was not going to be a part of my life anymore, I looked over and my glance fell on the stuffed animal, curled up right where Dorian would have been.
Yesterday I moved my computer desk into the bay of his bay windows, facing the middle one and between the other two. I rearranged a lot of things in my room yesterday, for a couple of reasons. I wanted to deal with things the litterboxes and his cardboard scratching things and other things before they became a big deal. I didn't want to wake up every morning and see them, or look up from my computer during my work days and look over at the window and be devastated that he wasn't there.
A lot of what I did yesterday was trying to pre-emptively protect myself from Suddenly He's Not There Syndrome. I'm not getting rid of or packing away everything that was his, but I need the room I spend my day in to be my office, not my office/his living room.
Yesterday, I was destroyed. Today, I clean. Tomorrow, I rebuild. Which isn't to say that I'll be done grieving, but that I'd rather be grieving and doing things than grieving and not.
no subject
on 2014-09-21 09:55 pm (UTC)