Jasmine

Jasmine Fisher, aka Jazzy (06.01.2006-02.11.2021)

As has become my habit, I take Jazzy’s collar with me into the living room, hoping to see evidence of her in the speckles of sun dancing on the carpet where she once found comfort.

Today, strands of light leak through the curtains and splash across the walls, the desk, the floor, and the side of the salvaged armchair, leaving tiny bits of brightness just inside the doorway, the exact spot where my old baby girl used to settle.

I said goodbye to Jazzy five months ago.

Last month, for whatever reason, was the most difficult. Every day my soul wept … deep, wrenching sobs, ceaseless waves of grief.

My head tells me to do things to heal: eat breakfast, walk, breathe.

My heart will not let go.

If I release her, she will be gone forever.

So, I do not relax my grip.

Clinging to the pain is better than nothing.