It doesn’t feel real

At the same time, it feels really real. It’s been 1 day and I already feel like I’m cycling through all the stages of grief. One moment it feels real, one moment it doesn’t. I’m balling my eyes out one minute, then it’s like my brain is preventing me from fully feeling it.

I’m having moments of regret and doubt about whether he had a good life. I think he did, but it could have been better. We gave him lots of love.

He lived 16 years. It was definitely his time. But could he have gone sooner? Should we have made the call earlier, before he got more sick? That’s something we’ll have to live with.

As I type this, I’m feeling numb. I cried harder during the anticipation of his passing. Am I still as sad? Maybe a part of me has let go of part of the sadness because he’s finally free of suffering. I feel guilty for not being as sad as before. I feel guilty for thinking of my boy and not wanting to cry. Am I just in that denial phase of grief? Or have I really had some acceptance about it all? Can it be both at the same time?

One thing I know is that my house feels empty. I keep checking all his spots thinking he’ll be there.

His footprints are still in the snow outside. His smell is still on his blanket. Should we ever wash it? His smell will be gone forever.

Feeling all sorts of things.