I've started talking to your empty chair. I know you aren't there, but you should be. If you were here, that's where you would be. I know you aren't there, but I need you to be.
Of course, some of the things I need you to be there for, I wouldn't need you if you were here, because they are problems caused by your absence.Money things, home insecurities, being sick.
That's another thing. If you were here, I'd have to stay away from you. I have a cold, a heavy cold, a horrible cold. coughing and sneezing and sore throat. I'd have to stay away from you, like I'd had to do the couple days before you went to hospital after we had that stomach flu.
God, how I regret those two days of not holding you and kissing you and sitting on or by your lap/leg. I was trying to keep you healthy, to keep you around. I hope you knew that. I think you did.
If we had known how little time, I think we'd have been together more closely those last few days at home.
I need you, Rex, and you aren't here. I don't know how to solve problems without bouncing them off you. I guess I have to learn a whole new way of doing, but I have so many things I'm having to re-do and re-organize everything else, how can I do so for the little things of day to day?
And yet I must.
You've pulled off a few miracles for us while you were here. I wish you were here for a couple of those now, or even just one small one. I don't know which one I'd pick, though. Maybe housing. I'd like to be in a more secure situation than I am in right now.
I don';t know how you could or would help with that were you still here. Although if you were still here there would be no need.
I don't know what to do or even where to start, Rex. I need to talk to you -- and listen to your input -- to even find a direction for me to go.
I wish you could be at peace, and how will that happen if I keep bothering you? I want you to be well and healthy and happy and not worried -- but I still want you here to worry with me.
I don't know what to do without you.
I don't know HOW to do without you.
Oh, God, Rex, what am I going to do?
And how?
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Of course, some of the things I need you to be there for, I wouldn't need you if you were here, because they are problems caused by your absence.Money things, home insecurities, being sick.
That's another thing. If you were here, I'd have to stay away from you. I have a cold, a heavy cold, a horrible cold. coughing and sneezing and sore throat. I'd have to stay away from you, like I'd had to do the couple days before you went to hospital after we had that stomach flu.
God, how I regret those two days of not holding you and kissing you and sitting on or by your lap/leg. I was trying to keep you healthy, to keep you around. I hope you knew that. I think you did.
If we had known how little time, I think we'd have been together more closely those last few days at home.
I need you, Rex, and you aren't here. I don't know how to solve problems without bouncing them off you. I guess I have to learn a whole new way of doing, but I have so many things I'm having to re-do and re-organize everything else, how can I do so for the little things of day to day?
And yet I must.
You've pulled off a few miracles for us while you were here. I wish you were here for a couple of those now, or even just one small one. I don't know which one I'd pick, though. Maybe housing. I'd like to be in a more secure situation than I am in right now.
I don';t know how you could or would help with that were you still here. Although if you were still here there would be no need.
I don't know what to do or even where to start, Rex. I need to talk to you -- and listen to your input -- to even find a direction for me to go.
I wish you could be at peace, and how will that happen if I keep bothering you? I want you to be well and healthy and happy and not worried -- but I still want you here to worry with me.
I don't know what to do without you.
I don't know HOW to do without you.
Oh, God, Rex, what am I going to do?
And how?
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
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