Three months

Still missing her.

 

15 years

As I mentioned a few days ago, there's just been too much mortality in my life and on my mind. Today is the fifteenth anniversary of my Dad's death. It's just mind boggling how fast the years have gone by, but there it is. May 14, 2011. Fifteen years.

 

 

Two weeks

"April is the cruellest month." T.S. Eliot.

 

Well, it is now.

 

It's been two weeks since Sophie died and I've been marking every damn day. I really hate not having her around. 

 

First picture I ever took of her, and holy moly the old Hollywood apartment.

 

 

And the last ones:

 

She was so damn uncomfortable. These were taken while we were waiting for Dr. Sarah to end Sophie's pain. I keep looking at them to reassure myself that she was truly on her way out. There was no other decision to be made.

 

God knows the last time she'd slept when these were taken. I know she hadn't been able to the entire night before because I was up with her all night. She must have been exhausted. 

 

And the last ones I took of her, after her pain had been eased.

 

I'm still just sick from this. I want her back.