There’s no real reason why I’ve chosen that particular spot – just do.  

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.

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.