I'm still alive, just struggling to recover from losing our cat.
I thought I was doing better, then I came home from work today, and there it was, on the table, Nikki had picked it up.
The box.
My cat is in a box. And I'm just losing it all over again. Because the reality that my cat is IN that box. And that there will be more boxes as time goes by. I think I tried to bottle it up too hard to be there for Nikki, to be calm and comforting, and the reality of it came crashing down with that box.
It's a nice box. With a plaque with her name on it and the day she died. And a little round plaque with her paw prints on it. That they made after she was gone, but still. It was her last little gift to us, that impression of her little paws. That box is going to bother me for a long time, but time will fix it eventually. Now if you'll all excuse me, I'm going to go and hug my cat whose still with me and try not to think about future boxes as hard as I can. And I ate some fudge. It helped. Didn't fix all the feels, but it did help a little bit.
Hugs to all of your, hope the world is being kind to you all.
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