I don't want to write this post. I fear that writing it will make it real, and I very much want to remain in a world of make-believe. A world in which my Wiggly girl trots happily by my side.
But Wigz is gone, the bestest doggy EVER, has left this world and crossed the Rainbow Bridge. She feels no pain and her seizures have stopped once and for all. She is where she should be. I, on the other hand, am still here. I am here and I am a blubbering, heartbroken, devastated mess.
The grief comes in waves. Big, thunderous waves that crash over my head, again and again until I am left drowning in my own tears. I gasp for air as the pain overtakes me and I struggle to stay afloat. Until finally, the tidal wave begins to subside.
I try to breathe as it ebbs away, but I seem to have forgotten how. I've inhaled the blessed air, but find I am holding my breathe. I try and try to release it, but instead, I feel my insides twisting and contorting until they wrench free and expel a deep and guttural sound. From far away I can hear my own sobs as they go on and on. From behind closed eyes, I watch the pain flowing over me, around me and through me. I'm powerless to stop it.
Infinity passes and I'm able open my eyes. I've remembered how to breathe again. I look around and this world comes back into focus. The sky is very blue. I feel a breeze on my face and hear birds and crickets. I look around for Wiggy, but of course she is not here.
So I grasp this moment, clinging as tightly as I can to keep from drowning. And all the while, another wave is gathering, heading my way.
I miss my dog. I miss Wigglez.