I can't recall if I posted about it or not, but my beloved dog, Frida, died late last month from a drawn out illness.
She was one of my best and most loyal friends and a wonderful listener. She taught me so much about life, love and, finally, death.
Today, her ashes arrived in a beautiful wooden box and the whole emotional mess came back with a vengeance. I clutched at that box like it was her.
It's a strange, bittersweet feeling; she's home and yet she's not. The loop has closed.
It's a painful finishing of a book, like finally reaching the end of a story you never wanted to end.
And yet it's the way it has to be.
I miss her so much.
Farewell my precious friend.