You used to be my Valentine. For fourteen years, the sweetest and most loyal Valentine a girl could want. Always ready for a cuddle. Never backing away from a kiss– And there were many of those cuddles and kisses. Yet, somehow, they now don’t feel like enough.
You used to love me. I used to be your world. Your every day revolved around me. You hated when I’d leave the house, even for a quick grocery run. You waited for me anxiously, as if worried you’d never see me again, and then greeted me as though years had passed since you watched me walk out the door.
That’s a hard love to get over, but I’ve been without you for exactly two months. There are moments I still expect to see your beautiful face in your usual spots, but then reality slaps me in the face, reminding me that you’re no longer here.
It’s a heartbreaking moment because my every day also revolved around you. You also used to be my world, and I miss you so fucking much.
The night after your suffering had ended, I went outside in the front yard. I walked around the trees and imagined your body in front of me. I even looked out for coyotes that I was always certain at any moment would jump out of the shadows and attack you.
I was your protector as much as you were mine.
I imagined us walking back to the front door together and then I headed to the place on the counter where your jar of treats used to be. No matter how sick you were in the end, you never forgot that you were due a treat every time you came in from outside, whether you did anything or not.
Uncle had moved those treats immediately after your body left the house, as well as your dish bowls. It was too hard to see any reminder of you, even though your presence had lingered so heavily in the house in those immediate days after.
Months later, you’re still there.
That night, I brought your bed and favorite blankie downstairs to my room. You hadn’t slept down there in many months.
I had washed your bed after I was sure this was the end. I wanted you to die in a freshly cleaned bed. After a week of lying in it and then dying in it, the bed smelled comfortably like you. So distinct. So safe.
Two months later, with the bed remaining in its place in my room, your scent still keeps me close to you.
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.
You used to be my Valentine.
For the first time in fourteen years, I won’t have my Valentine cuddling next to me. But I’m in no hurry to find a new one.
You can’t replace perfection.
Phil, you were your Mama’s greatest love, and I can’t wait to see you again and give you a kiss on the top of your nose.
Happy Valentine’s Day, my love. My boy. My Angel.
aliciajoseph 