Well, it’s been two years to the day you left my side, old friend. I still think about you all the time.
After rescuing you from the pound at five months old, and having you literally at my feet for over twelve years, you passing away in my lap was one of the worst days of my life. And I have to be honest, I just rambled and rolled after I lost you. Dated, traveled, explored, was reckless, actually. To the point I didn’t care about much at all.
But going back to Missoula this summer was one of the best decisions I ever made. Slowly, after a year and a half, I lifted from the fog caused by your loss. I spent time downtown writing again, hiked in the vast forests, breathed the crisp mountain air, waded the clear streams, and slowly I came back to life. I started thinking more about our good times, and less about our final week. Like the time two rangers in Glacier just had to pull over and pet you because you were famous (the most popular “person” in my entire family, extended or not). Or the time we watched huge bison, or all the towering trees in Redwood you were so enthralled with.
My girlfriends used to tell me, “Michael, you love that cat more than me!”
And I’d chuckle at that.
But they were right, lol.
For the first time since you passed, I’m looking forward to the new year. And I realize now, that I need to move forward, with or without you.
And I’ll be a little more careful. Because life is precious.
And one day, who knows when, I’ll be following you. And I’ll go through that same door you went through two years ago.
But until then, I won’t take this gift of life for granted.
Miss you.
