when heartstrings are pulled.
i got up with him this morning when he left for work and ended up stretched out on the couch with a dachshund and a very affectionate and clingy black cat. she's been underfoot all day, sleeping on my chest while i dozed on the couch, then sleeping either between my arm and side or on curled upon my back whenever i crawled back into bed. it's sad that such a sweet cat can't purr.
at some point on monday, nick and i will start driving west to one of the furthest parts of tennessee. poppy died wednesday morning in his sleep, according to nick's grandmother. a few weeks ago he had been in intensive care on a ventilatlor, unable to breathe on his own from emphysema. nick and his dad were able to go out there to see him, and shortly after they left he was able to go home. he made his wife, nick's grandmother, promise that she wouldn't let him go back to the hospital. he didn't want to go the first time because he was afraid he wouldn't come home, according to nick's dad. i'm so glad that his wishes were honored and he was able to stay at home and slip away quietly in his sleep. he was just so tired.
it'll be a long 500 miles out there and an even longer 500 miles back.
i've spent the last few nights very quietly at nick's house, laying in his bed reading after a hot shower until i get too sleepy to make it through another chapter. he slinks into bed later after i've already been asleep long enough to warm up all the way down to my feet, and he'll breathe how toasty i am since his skin's cool from being up in the cold air in his room. i'm the cold one now at home by myself with him at work. and because i don't have socks on.
sometimes when he's sleeping with his arm draped over me, his hand will move slightly against me in his sleep, like he's sculpting clay.
at some point on monday, nick and i will start driving west to one of the furthest parts of tennessee. poppy died wednesday morning in his sleep, according to nick's grandmother. a few weeks ago he had been in intensive care on a ventilatlor, unable to breathe on his own from emphysema. nick and his dad were able to go out there to see him, and shortly after they left he was able to go home. he made his wife, nick's grandmother, promise that she wouldn't let him go back to the hospital. he didn't want to go the first time because he was afraid he wouldn't come home, according to nick's dad. i'm so glad that his wishes were honored and he was able to stay at home and slip away quietly in his sleep. he was just so tired.
it'll be a long 500 miles out there and an even longer 500 miles back.
i've spent the last few nights very quietly at nick's house, laying in his bed reading after a hot shower until i get too sleepy to make it through another chapter. he slinks into bed later after i've already been asleep long enough to warm up all the way down to my feet, and he'll breathe how toasty i am since his skin's cool from being up in the cold air in his room. i'm the cold one now at home by myself with him at work. and because i don't have socks on.
sometimes when he's sleeping with his arm draped over me, his hand will move slightly against me in his sleep, like he's sculpting clay.