Thursday, December 11, 2008

Summer


Dear Summer,

I'm sorry that it had to come to this. I really wasn't ready for it, as I'm sure you felt the same way. There just wasn't anything more we were able to do. I wanted to more than you could know, but it just wasn't an option.

I am a wreck today. I missed you terribly last night. I woke up several times expecting you to be there, but you weren't. I'm trying not to think about you, but I can't help myself. I walk by the chair that you liked to sleep in and think of you. The blankets you would curl up in, and think of you. I see three bowls of food, and think of you.

I'm sorry you didn't feel well at the end. It's no fun being sick. I'm glad that you don't feel anything anymore.

I stayed with you as long as could yesterday. I just couldn't handle being there are the very end. You fell asleep in my arms and didn't know any different. I kept you wrapped nice and warm in your towel so that you didn't have to lay on the cold table.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

Mom

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