Yesterday morning, KitKat was in bed with me. It was marking the 24th hour of his death. Day one. KitKat felt me wake and turned around and kissed the middle of my back. John did that every morning in the same exact spot. This was something only he knew. That was between us.
The 48th hour was rough. You know the moment you’re eyes are closed but you are waking but not fully awake? The moment where nothing exists and there is peace? I hate when that ends because all this happened and I am still completely gutted.