A week has passed. The pain hasn't lessened any. I'm waiting to stop missing Lu so much. It hasn't happened yet. A friend came over last night, and we ordered Chinese food. When the guy rang the doorbell, I was trying to find Lucy to block her from barking at the dude. She's nowhere to be found.
Actually, she's right there, on the top shelf of the dvds, in a little box, with her collar on top of it, and a picture of her smiling next to it. A little box is all that she is anymore. That is killing me.
Also, all of my friends and family keep sharing their favorite Lucy stories. I love hearing them, but they give me such a sadness. All she can be anymore is stories. She was such a huge part of my story for 13 years, and now she's just past tense.
I don't know when I'll be able to write about something else. I know it's been a week of morose posts about how empty my life is without my dog. I imagine it's even worse in real life, because in person, the absence feels bigger. As sad as I may be coming across in my writing, in my really real life, I'm even sadder. I cry randomly. I have been extremely short with my friends. I am mad as fuck that Lucy got so sick and had to be let go. I wasn't ready.
It's been suggested to me by a few friends that getting another dog would be good for me. I cannot imagine trying to love another pet and then going through this again. I may change my mind someday, but right now, I can't see another dog being let into my life.
Is it really better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? Not at this moment.