We said goodbye to you on Sunday, January 1st, 2023 sometime around 3:30pm.
I don’t want to talk about you in the past tense. I don’t want to look at the calendar and have it go past January, because each day that passes means one day further away from your sweetness, your soft neck, your beautiful eyelashes.
I want to lie here, and wage bets with Alex on how many times I’ll have to call your name before you appear in my doorway. I can say, “see? I TOLD you he knows his name and answers to it!” I can scream your name now but it’s for nothing because it won’t bring you to my door and with each time I say it, my heart hurts that much more.
We received a message Thursday that your ‘memorial package’ was ready to be picked up at the Emergency Hospital. That’s code for ‘urn’ and ‘paw print in clay’. As much as I want any possible piece of you that I can have, anything that is undeniably you, I keep hoping this has all been a sick joke and the phantom pressure I feel against my feet in bed at night will turn out being you. I’ll wake up and apologize for kicking you because I didn’t realize you were there.
Julian, I miss you more than I could ever imagine. I hope your last moments were pain free and that you floated away to a place where you get served as much white meat chicken Tuscany as your little heart desires. Thanks for ten and a half wonderful years together.