(no subject)
My dog died. Mom called and said she was taking her to the vet. Apparently she had a stroke, so they had to put her down. So now everytime I think about Christmas, I think about how Tickles used to get a stocking, and how cute she was exploring her treats. And I think about how different it's goin to be this year. Which makes me think about my grandad, and how he won't be there either, watching my younger cousins open Christmas presents, being the last one, always, to open a gift...his cute smile when we tease him about getting so many presents and how precise he is in unwrapping them. How Navy he is. And how I'm gonna have to make the traditional trifle without him this year, and how much it meant to him last year when I brought it to him in the hospital. And I know that he's in heaven, and I know my dog was miserable alive, but I miss them both. And I hate that I keep crying when I think about Christmas, when I should be celebrating my Savior's birth...And I know that it's stupid and probably sinful to be this sad over a dog and a man thats been in Heaven for almost a year...but honestly that knowledge just makes it worse.