Tis the season

otto-tuneMemorial Day is one of those hard holidays for me. I remember what I am missing, mainly my late-husband, Otto.

The one thing that sticks with me about him was his sense of humor.  The other thing was that he loved animals. Tequila, the little Chihuahua in his arms, would run up to him every evening and he would pick her up and hold her. She would sigh and he would relax.

The feral cats in the apartment complex would come and visit. The day he went into the hospital for the last time, three of the cats came to say goodbye.

He had even made friends with the Scrub Jays by supplying them with peanuts. He used to tell me that most people didn’t look up. There was so many things happening above us. Even now I remember the names of birds and their calls, just because he would point them out to me when I was so sick that I couldn’t even remember my own name.

The hurt never completely goes away.

I know I am a better person for having known him. I just wish every day that he was still here.

 

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