1. I still look for him

This morning, before I was fully awake, I looked toward the place where he usually slept.

For one second, everything felt normal.

Then my brain caught up.

Oh. He’s not there.

My mind knows what happened.

My habits don’t yet.

2. His routine is still inside mine

Sometimes I almost get up to do something for him before I remember there is nothing left to do.

I never realized how much of my ordinary day included him until those little tasks disappeared.

The house is quieter.

But somehow, my body is still waiting for him.

3. I keep questioning the decision

Today I started replaying the euthanasia again.

I know why we chose it.

He was sick, and we didn’t want his last day to become his worst day.

But knowing that in my head and accepting it in my heart are two different things.

So today, I’m letting the questions exist without forcing myself to answer them.

Some things don’t need to be solved on the third day.

4. Today, I’m making life very small

I still don’t know when I’ll be ready to work normally again.

So I’m not deciding that today.

My goals are smaller:

• Drink some water
• Eat something
• Take a shower
• Answer one message
• Rest when I’m tired

His bed is still there.

His bowl is still there.

I’m leaving them alone.

There will be time to decide what to keep, what to move, and how I want to remember him.

It has only been three days.

I spent years building a life that included him.

Of course my body hasn’t learned how to live without him yet.

So when I catch myself looking for him again, I won’t tell myself to stop.

I keep looking for him because, for so long, he was there.

And for today, that’s enough.