You were comfort.
You were the epitome of content, and it was so easy to take you for granted.
You brought nothing to me, did nothing for me, never once did you serve me,
but my soul is not nourished by physical service alone.
You were the great companion, co-experiencing behind soggy eyes
with a well-earned pace of one prepared to approach the finish line.
Your existence, while brief, was that of a tissue box, a good book, a favorite sweater or a carton of ice cream: though independent from my own, your life was spent supporting me through struggles and successes. I miss that support. I miss the support that I could continue to gain. I delight in my sorrow knowing now of the love that I felt all along for the pet that stunk terribly but seldom made a sound. I wore tears as badges of pride for this love you've inspired, refusing to hide my pain but declaring in my failed stoicism my willingness to be vulnerable as you faded into a dreamless sleep.
I trust that life without death will be among the greatest gifts God has to offer. Until such a time, I mourn for that which is taken from this side of the curtain in the hopes that, if only in memory alone, those we once embraced will remain with us as we enter the unknown and share the fearful grasp of our final breath.
Goodbye Diablo, I'll carry you with me always.
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