I couldn't bring myself to blog last night. It had been a week since Rowan's death and I just didn't have the heart to talk about it. This has hit me so hard, harder than the deaths of any of the other cats. No matter how much I try to distract myself, her absence from my life is there and so very painful.
Even though I know it will ease with time, on some level I hate that. I hate that I'll just go on with my life and probably spend days when I don't think about her or talk about her. It seems offensive that would happen, but I know it will. When Kitty Julian died, we talked about him every day for a long while. Then it stopped being every day. I still think about him a lot, but not as much as I used to. The idea of Rowan and Rhiannon, my babies, being only just passing memories . . . no, that just seems so wrong.
I've lived a week without her and a little over a month without both of them. I hate this.
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