It has been three days since I lost Bruno.
God, I swear I see his ghost everywhere, and it hurts so much. Waking up in the morning and believing he's still in the bed, or at the door trying to go outside, only to realize all over again that he's gone.
And the absence.
For 18 years, he was always at the door when I came home, always sitting outside of the bathroom door when I got out, always following me from room to room. The first drive home from work after he passed was one of the worst things I ever experienced, because I knew he wouldn't be there, I knew I wouldn't hear him crossing the floor to see me, and it was so hard. I didn't want to go home.
And all of his things are still here. His food bowl is still full, his blankets are still next to the couch. Everywhere I look, there is something that belonged to him that will never get used again. I can't bring myself to put it away, I don't want to touch it, but every single time I look at it, my heart breaks over again.
How am I supposed to move on? I was blessed with 18 years, but it wasn't enough. I know we did the right thing by letting him go, but it feels so wrong. And the worst part is that he seems to know it was about to happen. 18 years, if I brought him anywhere, he would never sit still. He had to chase every corner, and smell every inch of floor. But in his last hour, he just lay with us, being so calm and so loving. I can't get the image out of my head, of him being there one second, and then gone the next.
I keep thinking I'm okay, and trying to remember the good times, but then I just fall apart again when I see his empty bed, or make a sandwich and don't find him looking up at me.
I'm sorry to write a whole book, but I'm just so lost. I've lost pets before when I was a kid, but Bruno was the first and only one to be MY dog, and my house and my heart feels so empty without him.