50 hours now.
It is almost harder, it seems. I cried all day long, with just short intermissions. My crying is so deep and vocal, too. Who even cries like that? Oh my goodness. I think this mourning process is so much tougher than when my last dog Ollie died. Maybe because with Ollie, I had kids to pour myself into. So he got a percentage of my attention! Though I had him before I married or had kids, so I wouldn’t have claimed at the time that he was any less loved or valued than my kids.
So I really don’t know why this seems so much harder. Maybe it’s a memory thing. I bet if I were to go through childbirth today, I’d probably be astonished at the pain and act like it was the worst, just because it’s been so long and I really don’t remember just how painful it was.
But this time with the kids grown, Honey has been the object of my affection. She is my baby. She has been receiving all of me. And I adored the unconditional love she so easily gave. She was part of my routine. I didn’t make a move or decision that didn’t first consider how it would impact her.
My body feels like a shell today. An empty shell.