Sabine,
You’ve been in the hospital the past three days, fighting for your life. I can’t believe how different it feels not having you here…shadowing me…pawing at me…meowing at me. No matter where I went, you always followed…you were always there.
I’m racked with guilt thinking that I could have taken you in sooner, that it could have made a difference, that you might have had a better prognosis if I had. I keep thinking that if I didn’t leave you alone the past weekend, I would have seen all the signs. Most of all, I feel guilty that I spent so much time away from you–traveling, working, doing things that didn’t matter or weren’t important, knowing you’d always be waiting for me when I returned home.
I hate thinking of you alone and scared in the hospital. All I want to do is bring you home and hold you, and make you feel better. I’m sick to my stomach knowing that all I can do is hope for the best. Hoping and waiting never seems like it’s enough.
I can’t imagine losing you, Sabine. It seems unfair in so many ways. I can’t imagine not having you around. It seems unbearable. I keep thinking that you’ll get better and we’ll go on with our lives, and have more time together.
