Rainy Day Mood

I slept for 9 hours last night and still struggled to get out of bed this morning. It's a cozy rainy day, but I welcome the gloom. Hazel and Gus visited several times during the night. She'll stay for snuggles. He gives nose kisses and then steals a drink from my water glass. We're all adjusting to Finn's absence. Actually, I don't think Gus thinks much about it. Hazel is a little out of sorts at times. We hear her caterwauling from the corners of the house calling for him, we presume. It's beyond sad.

As sad as we were to lose our big boy, we felt blessed to get news last night that Hazel and Gus are healthy. The virus that caused Finn's lymphoma did not infect our other two. We were living with bated breath all weekend, knowing we needed to get them tested. It was a dark shadow following us and man that was awful. Now I can process my grief and my relief simultaneously. I said out loud several times last night that it is strange to have such joy in the face of such sorrow, but I know that's not true. Life's incongruity is really not much of a mystery. We live we love. Death makes us love harder. Love is at the heart of our happiness. 

We had a lot of love this weekend. It was a family affair. My aunt and uncle were visiting from Arizona. It was good to have a positive distraction at Casa Wags. My brother had me dancing around the kitchen and signing in spoons Saturday night. Family met for Sunday dinner at our favorite Italian place to close out the weekend. I didn't have much time to ruminate or worry, but of course, it was always just below the surface.

Mike called while I was coming home from an airport run last night to give me the great news about Hazel and Gus. I knew he wouldn't give me a bad report while I was driving so I couldn't wait to answer his call. I'm pretty sure that lifted burden was responsible for such a solid night's sleep. And like clockwork this morning, I am missing Finn because I'm finally in a space where I can focus on my shy sweet boy with the heart on his nose, the wily white whiskers and the piercing green eyes who loved to curl up in baskets or sinks or on my pillow. I'll miss the way he would rub against my legs, engage in expressive conversation and demand to be let under the covers in the middle of the night numerous times. I'm so grateful I never denied him.