Missing her has become a physical ache. Every time I think, “I’m better now!” I have a setback. I’m somehow regressing in my grief and I don’t understand why.Maybe it’s finally sinking in that she’s not coming back, especially since we received the urn with her ashes. We placed her on a shelf in the great room, surrounded by the ashes of all our cats. I arranged her in such a way that she’d be able to see all the doors as well as the main hallways of the house. Had she been able to haul her ponderous bulk up there, this is exactly where she’d have wanted to sit.Still, and even with the addition of Hambone, I’m struggling.Rationally, I not only understand that it was her time, but also that allowing her to go was the most compassionate action we could have taken. I appreciate what a gift her life was, and if I hadn’t lost her, I’d have never come to realize the Tao of Maisy.The best way to honor her life is to get on with my own.She’d want that.Mind you, I’m aware that she was a dog and couldn’t grasp the complexities of human emotions like grief.
