Two Weeks

It's hard to believe, but it's now been two weeks (tomorrow) since I lost Harley. I'm handling it pretty well, now, but every once in a while it will hit me like a load of bricks falling on my head that he's really gone, and tears will well in my eyes. I actually cried a little last night, and at first I felt silly...then I realized that it's just a part of the process of grieving a loved one.

Millie is taking excellent care of me. I have had more cuddles from her than I know what to do with. I think she, too, needs some comfort. She knows he's gone, and in her way, she misses him. Sure, he used to roughhouse with her, and he was the original twerp of a younger brother, but they also spent a lot of time curled up side-by-side, keeping warm and taking comfort in having company whenever I was out of the house.

Life goes on. I don't like that he's not here, but I can't change it, and I just have to move forward.

In another couple of weeks, it will be December 6, the "annifursary" of Harley crashing into my world. I know I'll think of him, and I know I'll feel sad, even as I smile at the really good memories.

So there it is. I have a busy week ahead of prepping for a 5K, Thanksgiving celebrations, and helping Mom get this place bedazzled and glitzed for Christmas. Every so often I'll miss that little orange stinker going for a string of lights or eying the Christmas tree with a mischievous gleam in his eyes...and I'll laugh as I recall some funny moment.

The first night--Harley was sure these dangly things were all for him.

Using Santa Snoopy as a buffer after pissing off Queen Millie.

Wrapped up in the Christmas blanket.

Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa's house.