I’m starting to understand my Uncle Joe’s words as he helped us close my mother’s casket… “Once there were seven of us and now there’s just me.”
I walk though my bird room and think that once there were seven there and now there are only four. And while I realize some may not think the grief is similar, to anyone who has ever had a much loved companion animal, you know the grief is as deep and gripping as any grief you will ever feel.
I’m rapidly reaching the point where I’d rather be with them than here. No, I’m not suicidal. I just want to be with them all again.