Not that she ever made that much noise, but there's a deafening silence
here tonight without her. Coming back from the vet this morning to get
more blankets with a familiar scent for her, I opened the door and
thought "Baby!", temporarily excited to be returning home to her before
remembering I wasn't. And now, knowing she's not here but hearing a
krinkle noise as I move something and thinking it might be her.
Suddenly aware that I'm still wearing my shoes, but it doesn't matter
since there's no little paw or tail to watch for. Going to put down
the bags I carried in and realizing they can go on the floor, there is
no one to protect from their handles.

There are constant reminders of this little loss, every angle of any
room reveals a choice of cozy ferret beds, empty spots without her.
She's not gone yet, but she feels gone from me tonight as I contemplate
my emptiness without her. How much of a hole her little two pound body
fills. How much she is to me. Tears come to my eyes as I try to
consider the harsh possibility of what may be.

Baby is at the vet clinics for a 24 hour watch that began early this
morning. I'm desperate to have her here with me, but I'm trying to do
what will give her the best chance. The best chance to come home, to
get her stabilized, to hope it's not the end, to hope it's something
else and that she has more time. More time for her? More time for me?

I want to abandon myself to tears, the tears I've been fighting all
day. But when you welcome them they subside, prefering to lurk beneath
the surface where they can hit you at their will.

How to fill the night ahead. How to not feel her abscence every time
I move from one room to another, every time my eyes catch site of her
things. I used to joke that the place was hers, that I just got to live
here. But the truth is that I am hers. All of me is for her. And all of
me feels empty.

Risa

[Posted in FML 5442]