I hate being in our office right now and seeing Tov’s habitat sitting empty, we’re washing his cage liners and packing it all up for maybe another hedgie someday. But today I just want to cry over Tov, the unfairness of it all, the fight it seemed like we were winning and the agony of this surprise defeat. I cry when I think about driving the Saturn and mine being the only life inside. I imagined having him in his cage in the back seat, I would harass him by making him sit on my lap, he wouldn’t appreciate the sun but he would snuggle in the folds of my shirt and fall asleep.
I want to be angry, I want to weep loudly, I miss my little kiwi and all the memories we made with him seem so vibrant and razor sharp today. I am sick of grieving the loss of things in my life, I want a grieving season to be over, for a while.
But life in all of its celebrations is only as rich as it is because the highs are only sweet because we have tasted the bitters of the valleys. I feel like almost every single thing in my life is dying, my friendships back home, my sense of home, my pets, my job, my address, they are all fading. Today I don’t feel the birth of something new and I long to feel it, today I only feel death. The death of a house full of boxes and an empty cage where there should be a sleeping ball of quills which has a place in my heart.