Journal of a GenXer

Today I felt your absence

October 7, 2025

Today, I felt your absence in every quiet corner of the house. The sun came in through the window just the way you liked it—golden and soft—and for a moment I looked to your spot on the floor, expecting to see you curled there, half-asleep but keeping an eye on me like always. But of course, you weren’t.

You’ve been gone for a little while now, but some part of me still reaches for you—still listens for the sound of your paws, still waits for the familiar rhythm of your breath beside me at night. Grief has its sharp edges, but love has a way of softening them with time. And there was so much love with you.

I keep thinking about where you might be now. Not gone, not really. Just… somewhere else. Somewhere gentler, somewhere warm. I imagine a place where the grass is always soft and sunlit, where your legs are strong and you can run like you used to before time slowed you down. I picture a wide field where all the good animals go—a place of forever afternoons, where you never grow tired, and there's always someone to play with or curl up beside.

Maybe you’ve met old friends there, maybe even souls you knew before me. Maybe you lie in the shade of some ancient tree, nose twitching in a dream, knowing I’ll find you again one day.

I miss you, but I will carry you with me. In the stillness. In the laughter.

Thank you for loving me with your whole heart. I’ll keep that part of you safe always.