Today is Sparkey's five-month anniversary of being released from his body. I mark this second day of February by sending love to him, thanking him for his visits, and admitting that there are days when I miss him so much I would give anything to pat his pointy little head.
Yes, death is only a change and the spirit knows no bounds, but the loss of those soulful eyes, that regal gait, the swishing tail, and yes, the bad breath, is at times still so stinging.
His body lies out there in our yard, becoming one with the earth, returning to from whence it came. I just miss his physical warmth and loyal proximity, and that's a simple reality of being a survivor.
I miss my boy, and I send him my love.