It is so hard to sleep. I keep falling asleep and, not long after I slip into my slumber, my foot or my hand reaches out for him but he's not there. In my half-awake, half-dreaming state I get up and look for him but he just isn't there. Then I come to and realize he is gone and he's not coming back.
For 11 years he slept beside me. My husband and I don't even sleep in the same bed anymore (This is for several reasons but one of them is NOT relationship problems) but Tripp always slept with me. Tripp would often go to bed with my husband, wait for him to fall asleep, and then find his way back to me on the couch. We always touched when we slept, even if it was just my foot on his leg, we always touched. I often said he was the perfect temperature. I'm always cold and he was the perfect heating pad that never got too hot or uncomfortable and definitely would not cause a fire if you forgot and left it on all night.
If we weren't touching, I would immediately wake up and search for him which is what I still do. I needed the security of him being there. I always felt safe and warm and happy. In the 3 months prior to his death, I would stay up at night listening to him breathe or snore and realizing how lucky I was to have him. I knew we didn't have much time and I tried so hard to imprint the feeling of him snuggled up to me in my mind. He was so special. Now I'm left with nothing but this memory and it haunts me. I want to dream about him but I cannot dream without him here.
Everyone keeps telling me that I will get better in time. I will learn the "new normal" and learn how to sleep again and how to do things without him. Is it weird that I don't want this? I don't want the pain to go away. I don't want the hurt to fade. I don't want to move on. I just want him back.
He was my best friend. He was my extension, my shadow. He got me out of bed every morning and put me to sleep every night and now he is a pile of gray dust laying on my kitchen countertop. Everything that made up my perfect Tripp is now just gray dust sitting in a freezer bag with no resemblance to what it is or who he was.
11 years of the best food, the best vet care, the best medicine, all the walks, all the treats, all the love, the reason we bought a house in the middle of fucking nowhere on an acre of land, the reason we bought an SUV, the reason our pantry was custom fitted so we could hide the trash can in it, the reason we didn't have a coffee table is sitting in a fucking freezer bag in my kitchen.
He's gone and somehow, somewhere I failed.
No comments:
Post a Comment