I still see her when I wake up. And I still look down to see if she's lying on my lap.

That habit. That ritual, developed over 16 years, is going to take some time to leave me. 

Truthfully, I hope it never does. 

Although her absence hurts like hell, it makes me feel close to her still.

But there's a slight change. The tears are now mixed with stories of remembrance. Happy memories, reminders of her contribution to the home. 

It's no longer just sadness. A sense of appreciation is creeping in.

I guess this is healing. 

How lucky am I, to be 48 years old and only now experiencing this sense of loss for the first time. 

And how lucky, to have such a heavy heart because I miss Socks. 

I'm still crushed. Still heartbroken. Still missing her. But boy do I realise the gift of having had her in my life.