My dog has been dead since August 1st and today is November 7th. I vacillated between sadness and anger for about 6 weeks. Now, I'm just angry. Angry.Angry.Angry.
I'm angry at him for dying. He wasn't supposed to die. That was never the plan. Intellectually, I knew he'd die. I just never really believed he'd die. He struck me as invincible. He's not supposed to be dead. He's just not. But, he is and I cannot get past it. I can't let go.
He was the one person I could count on to be there -- always. He was my continuity, my friend, my son, and my muse and now he's dead. No joke dead. He's sitting in a can cremated dead. Dead enough fah'ya?
I'm angry at myself because I can't let go and I feel that undermines the life I gave to him and ultimately took from him. I worry that he's not resting peacefully or has reached his final destination because of my total inability to let him go and move past my anger.
I wish I could get past this. I wish I could feel better. I wish it could hurt less. It doesn't. I wish that I could just hang out with him for 5 more minutes. I wish I could stop crying. Life is a big ugly mess and it is meaningless without the kid. Or, today is just a bad day.
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