today is the 3rd anniversary of my Zeva passing away. my grief has turned into numbness, and I feel more disbelieved than anything else today. I don't understand how it's been 3 years. I don't understand how I haven't been able to pet her, cuddle her, hear her purr or meow, watch her breathe, or just be with her in 3 years. some days, I feel like I'm still sitting in the parking lot of the veterinary hospital she died in, and other days my life with her feels like it was several lifetimes ago.
I've had some truly wonderful experiences in the past 3 years. I've had good days. I cry for her less than I used to. it all just makes me feel so guilty, because I was so certain I would die when she did. I couldn't fathom there being life after her, and some days it feels like there wasn't supposed to be. some days I wish there hadn't been. most days I don't know how to begin living without her or even wanting to— I've just been existing.
I don't know what to do with this version of my grief— this version that still feels so consuming and agonizing, a pain in the centre of my very being that hits me in the middle of the night and it's all I can do to not curl into a ball, and yet so hollow at the same time.
Bonk helps, and it's so special to me that I'm able to share her as much as I do and that so many of you know her and love her as well, but I think it'll always hurt that I didn't share Zeva the same way. she shaped me into who I am. she is the most integral part of my being, even now. everything I do and will do is for her.