Two weeks

When I opened this gift from my family yesterday, I started crying and I crinkled up the wrapping paper and said, "I can't read it right now."

It's been two weeks since Jada died and yes, life does go on and I'm smiling and happy and not thoroughly depressed but there is still this absence in my daily life without her here. Mostly I miss her the most at night. We spent a lot of nights alone together and the ones when I couldn't sleep and couldn't get comfortable or the days I sat in the recliner alone, too sick to do much of anything, she was always there.

It's not that she did anything grand or that she knew tricks (I was lucky to get her to sit!), but I could always count on her. She was always watching me, making sure I was safe, that I wasn't being undully attacked by Micah, that the cows weren't getting too close or that I wasn't going anywhere alone. She hated being left home. She hated being away from me.

And now I hate being away from her.

I hope that everybody at least once in their lives can be loved as unconditionally (whether by dog or spouse or grandparent or pet goldfish or child) as Jada loved me.

Now I'm back to crying. It's really true that sometimes crying is just plain good for the soul.

My soul is good.