missing

Your cries echo down the hall, and I rush out to comfort you, but no one is there. Your memory saturates this place like the sun washing over the windows. I bathe in it, trying to find warmth when it evades me.

We still can’t empty your water dish. Put your pills away. Sweep your fur up off the floor. I sleep with your blanket every night, regretting having washed it.

How odd it is, to just sleep until my alarm goes off. No waking up to tend to you. How odd it is, to wake up alone. No one else who needs me. How odd it is, to make plans, and have no reason to return home by a certain time. No reason to rush back. No medication schedule to adhere to.

I’m a free agent now. You would think I would be relieved. You would think I would enjoy it more. The freedom. Instead, each time is a reminder of you - it stabs me in the chest.

---

Hi Friends. Loved ones. Beautiful humans.

I don’t mean to be so melancholy. As many of you know, my sweet Parker Joe passed away, and we have been grieving. It was incredibly peaceful, and beautiful. I want to write about it, but it will have to wait. I can’t get in the headspace quite yet. His is a beautiful story to tell, and I want to do it justice.

I took two weeks off Substack, to be with him. And to grieve once he was gone. I also quit my job, and accepted a new one. I am at the crux of a spiritual and emotional threshold. Leaving one life, entering the next. In Lenormand, I get the stork, the key, the ship.

I am grieving the loss of my dog and the end of a decade working with a team who are family. I am trying to go easy on myself. To just be.

Today’s is just a short post. A quiet update to fill the void instead of abandoning this commitment I made for yet another week. I am showing up as best I can. Things are happening, and changing, and I feel more inspired and motivated than ever before. I am just treading lightly into my new life because I am still deeply, painfully grieving the old one.

Please know that I am so grateful for this community. Thank you for being so supportive. Thank you for being so kind. Thank you for being there for me, even though I am behind on all of your posts and I haven’t been as engaged these last couple weeks. Thank you for everything. I do not take it for granted. I love you all to the moon and back.

Hauntingly yours,
dreary dendrophile

You can also buy me a coffee if the spirit moves you: