"If I didn't have to work today, I would have gone to the SPCA to see if Chloe was there," I say to my BFF. "But that wouldn't work out mathematically in terms of reincarnation, would it?"
"No," says my BFF.
"How long does it take to reincarnate?" I ask.
"Fifty-two days," says my BFF.
And at the moment my brain still thinks Chloe's here. I can see her walking around the house in my mind.
I hear the blinds shuffle, and I see her walk out from behind the noise makers. She used to use the blinds to wake us up out of bed.
When I sit down on the couch for a breather, I feel her in my lap.
When I forget to close the door to outside, I worry she's gotten out of the house.
When there's something in my nose, I reach up expecting to pull out a Chloe hair, heading towards my sinus cavity. (We were close.)
I'm truly amazed how many times a day I think about her. I guess that's what happens when I live with someone for nearly 16 years.
Yes, I know she's in a better place, but without her, I surely am not. Death is hardest on those left behind. And right now, I'm having a really hard time.
