*Today is Day 10 without Kip. We are missing him every minute of every day. Every place I look, every direction I turn...there is something that reminds me of him. He just took up such a large space in our lives for so long. And now that he's gone, that spot is so very,very empty.
*I guess we are doing about as well as could be expected for people coping with broken hearts. I think the initial shock of losing him is starting to wear off, and we are beginning our "new normal" without him. I didn't have much appetite for a while, and I wasn't sleeping well, and now some of those early stages of grief are beginning to fade away. I slept well last night for the first time since Kip died.
*Subconsciously I listen for him: the sound of his collar jingling, the sound of him jumping down off our bed, the sound of him getting settled on the couch -- all the little sounds of him that are so deeply embedded into the minutiae of our life.
*Automatically my eyes look for him around the house as I move through my day: the couches in the den, our bed, on the floor by the back door -- all of his usual spots.
*It's often the little things that hit the hardest - open the dishwasher and he doesn't come running; start a load of laundry and he's not automatically standing behind you hoping for a treat; he doesn't interrupt our morning workouts, asking to go outside or begging for breakfast. BD says he misses Kip the most when he comes in the door, and Kip doesn't come running with his tail wagging.
*I haven't been able to vacuum. I know that as soon as I'm finished, the entire house won't already be covered in another layer of dog hair. And as many times as I wished that would be true before, I'd give almost anything to have it happen again.
*Our little MC is very confused and missing her buddy. She talks about him and looks for him frequently. We have been very careful with our words when we're explaining to her. She's old enough to realize he's gone but not old enough to really comprehend the situation. Depending on what she asks us, we tell her that Kip died, or that he's not here, or he's not coming back. (We consciously avoid any reference to "going to sleep" or "going to the doctor" or "going bye-bye" etc.)
*We were able to pick up his remains the other day. So at least now he's back home with us again, where he belongs. He came back to us in a beautiful, small wooden box with flowers carved on one side.