3 years later

I try not to be sad about it... and I manage to stay relatively happy.
I can remember him without crying now... most of the time... at least initially.
I can have dreams about him and still wake up happy... unless it becomes a recurring thing that week... ok, month.

I was kind to strangers today. I smiled a lot. I gave money and food to a homeless woman (I had never done that before. I still don't understand what possessed me to do it... the sight of her crushed my heart and I suddenly found myself offering all my shit to her).

And I didn't cry all day.

Then I saw his photo.
And all I could remember was seeing him under that tree.
Then flashback to seeing him in his little cardboard box the night I brought him home... the way he'd search for warmth and place his warm little puppy tummy on my leg.

And I lost it.

But it doesn't hurt like before... the tears aren't as desperate.
I just miss him. I miss him.
But at least I can think of the happy memories with him and smile... that's something.
Thoughts of him don't consume my day. I can look at other puppies, even play with them, without thinking of Tyson... or feeling guilty... or like a piece of my soul is missing.

Tyson did take an enormous, beautiful chunk of my soul with him... but... I'm ok with it.

Mi feo, mi amor, corazón. Enano, gordo, tontin. Chiquito, babe, little guy.

I really wish I could be patting his muscular shoulders right now, as he sits guard at my feet.
I miss you, Tyson.