I was walking up rolling up the driveway the day we buried Gram with Mom's first cousin the priest. He was saying that now the hard part begins.
He meant that as the adrenaline of the funeral passed and well-wishers went home, the real world would intrude. We would no longer hear Gram asking for dessert ... but just a little piece or utter her little sayings -- I remember mon dieu seigneur.
That is where I am with Claren.
I am no longer saying good night to someone sleeping in my shower, no longer constantly run over and spill her water bowl, no longer tell an impatient someone I'll feed her in a minute.
It doesn't make me feel awful, just a little sad, and I remind myself that any depressing thoughts are probably because Claren's gone.
PS: I know I sound a little one-trick ponyish lately. I'll get back to falls and jerky people soon.
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