June 12, 2008
Several times since Monday I have started to write something about Nekko, but each time I found the emotion too strong to capture in words. I still feel a sense of emptiness, of being hollow. Nekko was with me for eleven years. She moved from Illinois to Washington, and then to South Carolina, back to Illinois, and finally Kansas. Twenty months ago she was critically ill. Every day since then I have been grateful for deciding to pursue treatment for her diabetes.
Her death is still close enough that I find myself looking for her at the top of the stairs, or listening for her nails clicking on the floor as she drug her favorite string toy towards me to play. Sitting on the futon and watching a movie is poignant now, as she used to share that space with us.
Monday morning we took her to a pet cemetery, where she was cremated. Yesterday afternoon I picked her cremains up, and brought her home. Eventually I know her memory will come without the emptiness I feel now. For now I miss her terribly.