I find myself saying all the time in my head, “I love you Allie.” Not loved, love; like I’m actually talking to him.
I was actually able to laugh today. My therapist gave me this neat Native American quote about death:
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamonds glint on the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush of
quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamonds glint on the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush of
quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.
A very beautiful poem, but as I was thinking about it today I realized that Allie was a bit of a cranky and whiny puss – he’d be purty pissy if we didn’t grieve for him. In fact, if we didn’t, I truly believe he would come back and haunt us and keep peeing on the carpet; only this time it’s Blessed Holy Pee. Where ever he is, he would be pleased to know that I am prostrate with grief.
My therapist said that Allie and Byron are probably up there comparing notes right now:
ALLIE: I used to make her watch me eat every time.
BYRON: Really? I used to make her get up at three in the morning just to carry me outside to go potty.
ALLIE: Wow, I’m impressed. Did you get your saline bag heated also?
BYRON: What? I didn’t know they could be heated. That stuff was damn cold.
And ol’ Al just looks smug.
I love you Allie.






