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The time that it hits me is when I pass the green sofa and remember your fur on it from sitting there - a spot you don't normally sit on - every day for the five days I was gone. You missed me. I stressed you out by leaving those three times - although I think three days is OK - the Christmas time did not seem too much for you.
I sometimes try to live and be happy using you - I sometimes think you loved me and would want me to be happy and that you must have known me better than anyone.
and two years ago, I knew something was wrong, and I let it go. Never thinking it would be cancer, and it causes me the jitters and restlessness to even think about it.
I miss you.
I miss you in the mornings. I miss you at night.
When I come home, I often say hello to you and talk to you even though I know you're not there. I was lonely before you died. I used to feel so sorry that you had to be stuck with my energy when I couldn't get myself out of this doom spin death spiral. Your death. Maybe I'll walk past the place you died again today and wear your ring and think how much I loved you and feel your kindness.
I can't apologize enough. I am so sorry for the small house, the pauper mother, the tears every day, the downer energy, the screaming fits, the dazed hazes.
I miss you.
you were a good girl.
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