Six months

My Jersey left us six months ago today.  It hurts.

This has absolutely been the longest, shortest period of time in my entire 50 years.

Life seemed to slow down that day.  It was like being thrust into a slow-motion movie from which I can't escape; it is like existing in the place between sleep and wakefullness when I can't figure out if the nightmare I had was real or just a dream; it is like not really remembering if I got out of bed in the middle of the night to turn off the ceiling fan; it's like having trouble distinguishing something imagined from reality.

I was in a car accident once.  The other vehicle jumped the intersection and T-boned my car.  I remember spinning and spinning around.  I remember looking through the windshield as the landscape around me passed by turning slower than a snail crossing a sidewalk; I distinctly remember thinking there was nothing I could do. Life crystallized in that moment.  Everything came into sharp focus and briefly became a snapshot of a moment.

That's what life has been like since she left.

As slowly as each day passes, life has gone on.  Each moment, each second, each minute ticks off as the next one begins.  I get further and further away from that moment yet I can't help but feel I've left something vitally important behind and that I can't quite reach back to retrieve it.

I continue to be numb.

Skylar came to us and I rejoice. However, I can't shake the nagging feeling that Jersey should be here with us, teaching her how to truly become a fully realized dog. She'll be fine though.  Tellie learned from Jersey and she is setting the example for Skylar to follow.  Tellie learned well, Skylar is coming into her own.

Even with all the commotion of Tellie and Skylar rough and tumbling and rolling around like tumbleweeds on the ground, even with all stumbling I do when I don't notice the toys they have left on the ground and I trip over them, even with all the excited barking when the two of them realize they are going for a walk or ride in the car, I am still haunted by the thought that something is missing.

This is what it's like for me.