Unconditional love
That is all I felt from you. From the second I brought him home, I gave you your space, your own room to get adjusted.
You didn’t need it.
You arrived in my bed that night, and slept by my side. And from then on, that’s what we do most nights. Sometimes with you resting on my side, sometimes on my head, sometimes just holding hands.
I assumed you had a hard life. Previous people returning you cause they couldn’t deal with your yells, I welcomed them. Talked back. Your teeth were rotten, falling out. Now all I have left of you is a vial of those teeth and your ashes. I’d do just about anything to have you wake me up again.
You’ve seen me go through so much. You were there when my father died, you were there for me more than most were. Just you and me, against the world.
You welcomed new people into my life with open arms. Showing them your trust with your little quirks. Showing your belly, curling up beside them, giving their fingers and hands little licks.
You were the best behaved little man. Never caused problems, besides when you ate all of my ex’s plants. But I don’t hold that against you. I never could.
So that night, when you cried in pain and terror. For some rare freak disease. I had to be there for you. I had just nursed you back to health after a surgery to fix your rotten teeth, and I had grown a liking to you gnawing on my finger with your toothless mouth.
I didn’t know what to expect going into the emergency room, but I was scared to death. Just as I had been when I ran into the emergency room after my father had his fatal heart attack.
Being moved to a side room with lower lights, being explained about this rare disease that most of your kind don’t survive, I was gutted. I still am. Writing this.
I didn’t want you to be in pain anymore. I hope you understand. I love you forever.
The dry patch on my nose, you made from licking is healing up, and that makes me sad.
I see you in every shadow.