Nellie's Sense

It was time to say goodbye to Nellie - only this time it was final. Last Thursday morning Nellie's behavior after her second stroke was her way of saying it was time. I carried her into the family room but that was little comfort in her confused state of mind. Yet I had my time to say goodbye to her before I set off. It would be my last time to see her, touch her, smell her, hear her - I knew it and she instinctively knew it.

It was Susan that had the task of closing the final chapter (I guess I'm the one for cats, she's the one for dogs). It's tough to lose a best friend. Nellie was always there each morning to see me off and the first to greet me as I arrived. A daily dose of unconditional love.

Today it hit the hardest - no longer distracted by being out of town and starting back up the routine again. Suddenly this morning there was a void - a missing part - somehow it didn't make sense.

We take for granted the physical presence and the luxury of the five senses that connect us to life each day - almost infinitely available in the present.

When removed, we yearn for another moment of that physical sense - now available only in the virtual past tense.